Breaking Points
by sugarbucket
Summary: Ever wonder why Rosalie and Edward are so cold towards one another? Their story from the start; in keeping with the books, but based on the idea that they're both masterful liars. Love, lust, betrayal, desire, lies, darkness and breaking points.
1. Chapter 1: Change

_Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine, all is Meyers...all but the wishful plot manipulations._

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**Chapter One: Change**

I had always considered myself to be something more than what I was now. Covered in delicious blood, knee deep in the tangible ecstasy of my kill the dead body beneath me, the taste in my mouth and throat. Murderers had more of a bitter taste to them, like almost sour milk or the acerbic tang of a dirty penny.

I had always thought I was more than this. I, Edward Cullen, had to be more than a creature bound to his desires and hunger.

But as I looked around the dark alleyway, silence deafening in the absence of my heartbeat, I knew I was not. I had become a scourge, an animal. I was wasting what I was with my indulgence. I had disappointed my beloved father.

I stepped away from the drained, cooling body of the murderer and wiped my mouth with powerful self loathing. The hunger returned almost immediately but I ignored it. Insatiable as always. Carlisle said after time that would fade.

Carlisle. The very thought was enough to make me feel ashamed of my behaviour. He thought I had given up my human drinking ways years ago. I had rejoined him, rejoined the society in which we sometimes circulated. But he could not read minds. I was deceiving him, and I suddenly realised how terrible it was. My secret forays into the night to slake a thirst I so despised, it had to end.

So it was with resolve that I left the expired meal behind me and returned to my family, expecting to find them exactly as I left them.

* * *

The very short return journey to Rochester was filled with brooding regrets. Regrets over imprudent things I had done. I had wasted ten years of time being stupid, wasteful and indulgent. I had so missed Carlisle and Esme, my parents, my companions, my family, my everything. Missed them so much that I had had to return to them. Carlisle had forgiven me of everything, I was his son and had never ceased to be. He did not know that I still drank human blood. In the crystal sharp retrospect, I could see how pathetic my little rebellion had been. The desire for blood, even for the blood of wrongdoers, was inescapably childish. I reflected upon it bitterly as I made my way home. Home being Carlisle, not Rochester. The small town outside of it had seen a reduction in their crime rates recently, but an increase of dead murderers and rapists. Carlisle would read of my transgressions in the papers tomorrow.

As I drew closer, I began to feel something was wrong. The vague shape of thoughts that were fraught with guilt and worry. Those thoughts belonged to Carlisle. Panic shot through me instantly. I was a half mile from our house. What had happened?

I threw off the human pretence and jumped from the carriage. It was thickly night, the coachman was almost asleep himself and did not notice my light spring from within, nor my soundless landing on the cobblestones of the street. The smell of human blood was not far, barely a day old. What had happened? Something was wrong, and it was related to the smell of blood. Carlisle's thoughts became shapes, then a blurred writhing figure and then finally a girl.

A girl screaming and begging him for death, and Carlisle could not oblige because of the change he had set in motion. I was frozen for a moment, mere feet from my home. The isolated house would betray not screams to the outside world, but I could hear them. I could feel Esme's concern for the girl, her soothing thoughts. Carlisle was beside himself, riddled with guilt. He missed me, wished I was there.

That did it.

The house, if nothing else, was the same as when I had left it. Comfortably decorated, but minimally so. A few chairs here and there, props for when (if ever) we entertained. The walls bore art, beautiful and ornate. The colours were soft and creamy. The halls echoed with screams, bitter blood curdling screeching. I remembered my own throat making such a resonance. But no…surely not.

Down though the beautiful bowels of the house I went, absorbing the thoughts as they came to me. By the time I opened the door, I was in no doubt that Carlisle had found a girl, raped and beaten almost to death in the streets and that he was changing her to save her.

What I was not prepared for, was who it was. Neither Carlisle nor Esme had thought her name once, why would they when all they cared for was her suffering?

Rosalie Hale shook and shuddered in agony, great bouts of the invisible fire ripping through her as she screamed and pleaded almost incoherently for Carlisle to kill her.

And there he was, my father, sitting beside her talking to her in a broken voice, fractured with remorse. Esme was beside him, stroking back the girl's blonde hair, damp with sweat and coloured with blood. They both looked up suddenly.

"Edward!" Esme cried out, running to me arms thrown wide to embrace me. I returned her hug, so pleased to see her as always. "Oh my darling," she said, kissing my face and cupping my cheeks. "Oh thank heavens you're here!"

Carlisle was there the moment she stepped away. He hugged me tightly, I knew he so wanted my approval for what he had done. Our strange little family stood together, trying to speak over the fading screams of a dying Rosalie Hale.

"I had to," Carlisle said instantly, his eyes pleading with me but his voice strong and assured. "She was dying."

I looked at her, tearing at her own face as she cried. I knew of Rosalie Hale in society. A vain, stuck up little creature who wanted everything - the perfect husband, beautiful babies, fabulous home. We had met twice and I disposed to dislike her. She was the sort of person so enraptured in her own life that she could not see anything beyond it. Of all the people I could imagine spending an eternity with, Rosalie Hale was at the very bottom of the list.

"Who did this to her?" I asked, trying to detract from giving my approval.

Esme closed her eyes, shaking her head a little. It was Carlisle who answered, his voice taut. "Her fiancé, Royce King. His scent is all over her and I encountered him a few streets from where I found her. He was drunk, laughing - he bore her blood. He and his…friends."

I felt pity for her then, she was trembling uncontrollably. But it did not sway my opinion. Carlisle's good nature had led him too far this time. I listened to her beg for death in murmurs and I could not contain my frustration.

"What were you thinking, Carlisle?" I asked, closing my eyes. "_Rosalie Hale_?"

Carlisle turned from me and sat beside her once more, holding her hand gently. "I couldn't just let her die. It was too much - too horrible, too much waste."

That was not the point. He wasn't seeing the point. Clearly, she did not _want_ to live. Had he not considered that living with what had happened to her might be unbearable, and worse - us having to live with it. But telling him this would have been unfair, he already felt the guilt as if he had committed the crime upon her. I could feel it in waves, hear it echo in his mind. "I know."

He seemed not to hear me, lost in the horror of what had been done to her and what he had done. "It was too much waste. I couldn't leave her," he whispered.

Behind me, Esme was so much more ready to reassure him than I was. "Of course you couldn't."

Now I felt angry. Not jealous. Never jealous. Of course not. To see my beloved father holding her hand like that, whispering to her. My mother thinking forward to a time when she would be fully changed, how she would have a daughter. Why would that make me jealous? "People die all the time," I said, harshly. "Don't you think she's just a little recognisable, though? The Kings will have to put up a huge search - not that anyone will suspect the fiend."

I was a torrent of mixed emotions. Sympathy, jealousy, confusion. I had my own problems to deal with, my own confessions to make. The centre of the world was suddenly swerving around Rosalie Hale. Just as she would want it, I suspected.

As the crying began to fade, I could more clearly hear the thoughts of my parents.

'_Forgive me, forgive me. I should have let death claim her. I am not God, I am not worthy to judge…but I could not leave her there, so broken…forgive me.'_

'…_poor girl, such pain. Perhaps even a daughter…perhaps even more for Edward…'_

I had heard enough to know that they already felt strongly for her. Carlisle would be bound by his guilt for her pain, Esme by her motherly love. And it hadn't taken either of them long to latch onto the fact that we were both the same age and we were both deeply beautiful. She, of course, had been beautiful before Carlisle had set in motion the change. I had no doubt that she would be breathtaking when fully immortal.

I was suddenly somewhat resigned to it, sensing the loving determination of those I thought of as my parents. "What are we going to do with her?"

Carlisle sighed, her hand still in his, even though it trembled violently. "That's up to her, of course. She may want to go her own way."

'_Oh I do so hope she will stay!' _Esme thought. _'Stay and be a daughter, be a friend beautiful girl.'_

'_She will stay,' _Carlisle was sure. He did not believe she would go her own way. So it was only me who did not want her in my home, with my family. My mother and father were already sold. Their sympathy and pity had moulded into love as they endured her screams. Carlisle, I suspected, would be forever bound to her. I must not have screamed so loud when I was transforming. Esme already loved her. Unfathomable. I could not stand her.

She stopped shaking. One last breath exhaled from her body and then she was still, as she would be forever more.

"There now," Carlisle said, his voice shaking with relief as he stroked her hair. "It's over."

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_A/N - Really hope you enjoy this, it's kind of my obsession. Review if you feel like it, I adore and worship reviews. Thanks for reading!_

X X X X X

Bex


	2. Chapter 2: Immovable Objects

**-Chapter Two: Immovable Object, Unstoppable Force-**

When it finally stopped, I prayed to God to let me be dead now. Death was surely an end to such suffering, death was anything but what I had endured. Annihilation, transcendence of the soul - even Hell, were preferable to that which had wracked my body, sent my mind into insanity with the longing to rip my own skin and bones apart. Hell had nothing on whatever _that _had been.

Was I still Rosalie Hale? I blinked; I could hear my own eyelids. I breathed, tasting a hundred flavours on the air. I could feel my skin on the cold stones of the floor, I could hear and sense everything, too much. I waited to hear my heartbeat - I was waiting a long time before I realised that I was truly dead, that Dr Cullen had spoken the truth to me as he sat beside me. I was a vampire.

Which was ridiculous, of course. Vampires did most certainly not exist and while I might not have been the most intelligent girl in all of Rochester, I wasn't about to be tricked into believing something so stupid. But my lack of a heartbeat was silently proving me wrong. I looked around the room at the people staring at me.

Dr Cullen was smiling at me as if he was looking at a miracle, the kind woman who had stroked my hair was smiling at me too; she seemed as though she might cry, though I couldn't understand why because she continued to smile.

The other face was notably not smiling. Upon recognition, I was not surprised. Edward Cullen never smiled, and certainly not at me. A proud, arrogant boy, too attractive for his own good. I had met him once. I fervently disliked him. Vaguely, I wondered what he was doing here at the scene of my death.

Perhaps I had lost my mind. Maybe I was really dead on the streets where Royce had left me and this was all a strange form of Hell. My mind refused to full take in everything; I was left with strangely disjointed thoughts.

Maybe that splintering, unbearable pain was a preliminary to something much worse. Eternity with Edward Cullen.

"How are you feeling, Rosalie?" Carlisle asked me, pulling me from my dark reverie. I shook myself. Carlisle Cullen would never belong in Hell. He was far too lovely. My initial dislike of him was wiped clean. He had sat with me the whole time, through everything. I could not envy him his beauty any longer. He deserved to be so divinely beautiful, as did his exquisite wife.

I could not think of an answer, so instead I fell back on a question. "Am I dead?" I really did need to know; heaven would surely not include Edward Cullen, but Hell would most certainly never encompass Carlisle Cullen. Of course, the most simple answer was that I was alive and Carlisle had healed me.

But the lack of heartbeat resounded my suspicions. I could hear their every movement, the small scuffles, Edward crossing his arms. Why could I not hear my own heartbeat, if it had not ceased and I was not dead?

It was Edward who answered. "You are dead in that your heart no longer beats. You are dead in that your old life has died and you stand upon the precipice of a new one."

I could not contain a small scowl. A simple 'Yes' or 'No' would have sufficed. He smirked at me, knowingly. I looked away from him, unable to formulate the resources to care. I looked to Carlisle.

"What you told me was….true?" My own voice sounded foreign to my shockingly perceptive ears. Higher and softer; with the pitch perfect chime of a bell.

He nodded, still staring at me in wonder, as though I really was some sort of soul-affirming miracle "There is much you must yet learn of your new life Rosalie, but we will help you."

I wanted to speak, to say a million things but my throat was very suddenly dry, then hot, then scorching. I needed something and I needed it now; the desire to have it, whatever it was, overwhelmed me to an extent that was terrifying.

Edward seemed to sense this. "She needs to feed," he said, almost with disgust. "Now."

The basement in which I sat was dark, so dark I should not have been able to see - but I could. Dusty, dirty objects sat piled up. Old books, a nursing chair, a gramophone with a broken needle. I could see the needle; I could see every grain and indentation in every object. Something glinted then and when I turned to look into it, I could not contain the gasp that uttered past my lips.

The mirror showed the most heavenly, perfect creature I had ever beheld. I knew after a few moments, that it was my reflection in a mirror. I took my own breath away, a new record - even for the heights of _my_ vanity. Edward chuckled and I ignored him, too enraptured in my own reflection.

"When Narcissus is done," he said disdainfully. "You should take her hunting. She'll turn on the first human she sees."

My blood turned cold. Feed?

Carlisle began to explain everything to me then, explain it all in calm, loving tones but all I heard was Edward leave and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Two months passed and time was redefined. Life had turned into one long, sleepless episode, broken up by changes in pace. I understood it all now. I knew what I was, I hunted when hungry, I stayed away from humans. We left Rochester of course, I never saw my parents again.

But it was not my parents I was thinking of as I walked in our vast garden that night, looking at the sheer loveliness of everything. My family were inside the house, Carlisle and Esme partaking of some private, romantic anniversary which I did not wish to intrude upon. Edward was not inside the house - I did not count him as family in my mind anyway.

Pleased to have a distraction, I let my mind wander willingly onto the inexhaustible subject of Edward.

There were not enough ways to describe how much I hated him. It was strangely benign hatred sometimes, but I think that might have been self imposed owing to his ability to read minds. I spent most of my time in his presence trying to block him out or, failing that, convincing myself that I didn't hate him at all.

When I did, very much.

Firstly, his arrogance was astounding. Carlisle and Esme were blind to it of course, as they were blind to my vanity and dark side. I was not blind to it. He was one of those men who is unfortunate enough to _know_ that he is God personified and that with a mere gaze he could reduce an Amazonian woman to a gibbering pile of shivery goo.

Secondly, he could read minds. It drove me nearly insane to be around him and it made him unbearably smug. He knew everything, and although he claimed it was involuntary - I knew he liked it more than he let on. He knew that I knew that, which made him smile and shake his head. It made me want to rip his spine out of his back - which made him raise an eyebrow at me, the same smug little smirk on his lips.

Which brings me nicely to number three. He was the slightest little bit interested in me whatsoever. This, criminal in itself, was the most intolerable thing about Edward Cullen. Whereas I hated him and therefore thought about him sometimes, I obviously never even passed through his mind. This, to me, was a far greater cruelty than hatred; indifference. He never even looked at me except to mock me with his arrogant, all knowing eyes.

Bastard.

I had run out of reasons why I hated him, I was losing steam on the whole thing. Other thoughts were creeping in now, unstoppable and poisonous. I closed my eyes, trying hard not to let them but it they were fuelled with oceanic determination. The sea couldn't be stopped from pouring onto the sand and nor could the memories and thoughts that flooded my consciousness.

Royce King.

The first time I realised how strong I was, the decision was made. Royce King and his companions would die in the most horrific manner I could devise, and it would be done by my own hand. Unfortunately, the first time I was struck with the idea I was in the same room as Edward. I remembered him looking up from his book, a well worn expensive first edition of 'The Inferno', and glaring at me with wide, judgemental eyes. I glared back, daring him to run to Carlisle like a child. He shook his head once, his judgement made, and returned to his book with moderate, yet obvious, disgust.

After that, I realised I would have to be more careful with my thoughts. So I waited until he was out to think of it. By now, it was force of habit. My mind knew he was gone, knew I was free to plan it - only I was too dejected just then to want it enough to commence scheming.

But then I thought of the cause for my dejection, and the monster inside me screamed for retribution. It begged for messy, unadulterated gore and broken bones. It begged for blood, and loss of control. I would meet it halfway - it could have the bones and cruelty, none of the blood. I would not taint myself.

A very small smile curled around my lips, I wound a silky thread of hair through my fingers somewhat masochistically. My hair was a conduit to a plethora of bad memories, memories that brought old fashioned shame and humiliation into my soul. This was why I hated Edward - because he knew _everything_. Even more than I knew really, because I denied that I blamed myself, or my beauty - but he knew better. He knew it all, and still he could not bring himself to once speak my name.

That upset me intensely. To hear him use Carlisle's name like it was the name of God, and was suddenly fashionable to take the Lord's name in vain. To hear him speak Esme's name with such fondness and love. And when, if ever, he addressed me - my name was _always _notably absent. It was always 'you' or 'she'.

He did not pity me, he did not like me, he was not attracted to me, he wasn't interested in me. He hated me. And yet - he was possibly the person in all the world who knew me the best. Life, or lack thereof, was deeply unfair.

I was imagining the mess under my fingernails after I would kill Royce and his friends, when I caught the scent and I cursed because only I could have such astronomically bad luck.

"You said you would be gone for the week," I intoned, calmly plucking a petal from a rose, breathing in the scent as a distraction.

"I was unaware that I needed your permission to return to my own home." His voice was as it had always been towards me. Cold, sarcastic, deadpan. _Indifferent_.

"You cannot go inside," I warned him. He stopped, I could hear his tracks. As I turned to face him, ready to battle with him to grant Carlisle and Esme their night alone, I caught the microscopic scent of blood on his lips. A frown flickered between my forehead and before I could even open my mouth to ask the question, he was answering it.

"It is why I must speak with Carlisle," he said, giving me a thoroughly disdainful look.

I suddenly felt smug, no longer caring if he heard every single thought in my mind. "Control is difficult to master, Edward. I'm sure you tried very hard."

His eyes might have been painful if their potency were made tangible. "You are a mere child compared to the years I have seen of this life."

"Years spent feeding on human blood. Carlisle's over-inflated opinion of you is staggering. You are fortunate indeed that he cannot read minds as well as you."

"I have no desire to make it a secret. I go to him now to confess it."

I suddenly felt wildly protective of both Esme and Carlisle. They would not want to know of their son's misdemeanours, it would hurt them to know of his deception. I did not want that for them. I loved them, I wanted to protect them.

"It is better that they know," he said, anticipating my next move before I had a chance to make it. "I will not lie to them any longer."

"Why throw away such a luxury? I should love to be able to lie and do so in the privacy of my own mind."

"You would love to do a great deal privately, I have no doubt."

He made to move past me then, a movement so fast a human could not even have seen it. I moved to compensate, standing in front of him. "Leave them be. Your selfishness can wait another day."

He looked at me with distaste. "Your ego is generous tonight."

"What good can come of telling them now? Why drag them into your suffering with you?"

He narrowed his annoyingly beautiful eyes. "You understand nothing."

"I understand that you no longer want to be alone in your dilemma. They do not deserve to be disappointed in you. They adore you."

"I cannot lie any longer. I have failed Carlisle."

"He will forgive you, of course he will. But you will never forgive yourself for telling him. He does not wish to know. Be brave and contain your transgression."

He sneered at me then. "You are telling me to be brave?"

"Yes." I stood my ground, ready to stop him if need be.

"Utterly ridiculous."

I expected him to try and cross me, instead he turned around and walked in the other direction. I was confused, why was he leaving? I did not believe that my logic had sunk in at all. He was heading towards the lake, a small distance from the grounds of our house. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should leave him completely alone or if I should follow him and keep him distracted from his goal of speaking to Carlisle.

I thought of Carlisle's face, of Esme trying to hide her anguish. It wasn't fair that they should be dragged into his desolate, dark little secret world just because he was wanted to alleviate his guilt. No, I would not allow that.

So with resolve and deep resentment I shook myself and followed him to the lake.

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_A/N - Thanks so much for reading, hope you liked it. Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3: Flaw

**- Chapter Three: Flaw -**

Was she completely insane? Following me out here with her blatant attempts to distract me sufficiently from my aim? It would never work, I could see her coming a mile away and she knew it.

Out politeness more than anything else, I stopped by the lake and waited for her.

"What is this really about, Edward?"

I listened. _'Damned stupid arrogant bastard, I refuse to live like this anymore.'_

"I believe your resentment stems from the fact that '_this'_ is not about you," I replied, sounding supremely unconcerned. I could smell her very palpably now. The scent of her skin, her hair, her being; it was distracting.

"I know you hate me," she said. _'Oh yes, you hate me, so selfish, so cruel…' _"But this is stupid. We cannot live like this."

"How do you propose we live then?"

"We can be civil." _'But you do not think so, perhaps I do not even think it is possible.'_ "We could try."

I could see where this was headed. "Save yourself the trouble, I will not disturb them tonight. Go back to your own little world."

That riled her. I could feel the anger coming off of her in waves. Her thoughts were a flurry now, a stream of anger and something else, barely suppressed. For the first time, I was actually curious about something revolving around Rosalie Hale.

She folded her arms and something in her shifted again. A new idea.

_'When I was young,'_ she said, speaking in her mind. _'A friend of mine lost her father to diphtheria. When her mother remarried, her husband had a son. The boy was a spoilt little thing, used to getting his own way. He hated his step-sister so much, and all because he couldn't bear the idea of sharing his father, or any of his family for that matter. He made her life a complete misery, every single day.'_

I grinned, already seeing where it was headed. "I suppose I'm the little boy?"

"Or I am. Perhaps you see me as a spiteful little child, here to ruin everything."

"Why does it matter? So long as we can be civil in front of Carlisle and Esme, it is irrelevant."

"Yes, because that will not become grating after an eternity."

I closed my eyes. An eternity with Rosalie Hale. Dear _God_.

"I know what you think of me, Edward. I'm sure an eternity with me is as daunting as an eternity in hell, but this is not hell Edward and we should not make things more difficult merely for the sake of it."

"You are preaching to me that this is not hell? I listen to your self involved thoughts every minute of my time in your presence and all I hear is whining, moaning complaints about the hell in which you are cast! Do not speak to me of hell, little girl - you know nothing of it!"

She was furious at my outburst. "And I suppose that poor little Edward Cullen has his own brochure of the nine layers, does he?"

And then she was unspeakably cruel, allowing her mind to fully revisit that night in Rochester, and I was forced to partake of it. Months of sleepless bloodlust and existentialism had done nothing to mar the clarity of her memories; they were as sharp and clear as if we had gone back in time to stand by her as the whole horrifying scene unfolded before us. I closed my eyes, uselessly trying to block it out - cursing my perceptiveness that had followed me through death and become a gift. I could see, hear and feel everything as if it were happening to me.

"Stop it, Rosalie!" I warned, stepping backward. I used her name to distract her. She hated that I never used it, she wrongly assumed that I avoided it owing to disdain. Behind us, the water of the lake lapped gently at the smooth stones and pebbles, the sounds were almost soothing.

"Why should I stop?" she sneered, but her mind had ceased the re-run nonetheless. "You care nothing for me, why should it trouble you to know of my petty tribulations? You wish I had died on that street, cold, dead and defiled!"

"You are confusing your own desires with mine," I spat, losing all patience with this mercurial creature; the embodiment of beauty, before me. "It is you who wished to be left alone to die on that street!"

There was no need to read her mind, she was saying everything that came into it - regardless of how candid it might be.

"You revolting swine! I despise the very sight of you!"

Even furious, she was heartbreakingly lovely. Her anger, so genuine and raw, was not enraging me as it ought to have been. I could feel myself warming to her, and I knew then that I must genuinely have a very dark, masochistic side to my persona. I must have been insane.

"You despise that you cannot hide beneath your beauty, that your name cannot shield you from me. You despise me because I can see all the way through you and you cannot make your insides as beautiful as your outsides."

I was going too far, it would be so easy now to apologise and leave. But I didn't want to - that wasn't even a possibility now, leaving. When had that happened?

_'Supercilious, egotistical, detestable, hate him so much….damned smile, damned eyes…mouth…oh god shut UP!'_

I froze then, not knowing if I had heard correctly. She was still glaring at me with fierce eyes, her newborn hands itching for blood and violence. She needed to feed, I could see it in her eyes. I suddenly felt the urge to be there when it happened.

"Rosalie," I experimented. It was jarring to actually feel the resonance of her spine tingling as I said her name. "You need to feed."

It was the wrong thing to say. The sneer intensified. "As always Edward," she growled. "To you I am an animal requiring maintenance. _Feed it, keep it quiet."_

"Oh do shut up, you pretentious little brat!"

"Your benevolent denial is SO reassuring," she crooned sarcastically. I could never recall being spoken to like this in all my years of life. I had never met anyone who hated me this much. "Well this pretentious little brat will not shut up, will not be quiet and does not need you to feed her like a dog! I will not become a liability to Carlisle and Esme. I am, much unlike you Edward Cullen - _pure_."

I was actually so involved in the exchanges, that I couldn't see the mistake coming a mile away. By pure, she meant the monster inside - pure of blood on her hands, pure of drinking human blood; and I knew her thoughts of murdering Royce King and his friends, so I did something gravely wrong. I snorted with disbelieving laughter.

But it came across wrong.

The look on her face, the wordless assumption that flashed through her mind told me that she had wrongly interpreted my doubtful snigger, challenging her 'purity' in a way not involving bloodlust.

She had said she was pure and I had laughed at her. I, with all my insight into the minds of everyone I knew, made a fatal error.

**SMACK**! She hit me so hard, I actually felt my teeth rattle. The slap didn't exactly hurt, but it reverberated through my skull and over my eyes. It would have taken a human's head completely off.

Before I could even open my mouth to release to torrent of apologies and reassurances that my dubious laugh had nothing to with what she thought, she hit me again - this time it was not a slap. She swung her arm into an arch in a twentieth of a second and slammed her fist into my face. It actually hurt. It had been a long time since I felt pain and whether or not it was the guilt making me feel it, was irrelevant.

I let her do it, I let her hit me as hard as she wanted. I wanted her to, it would make her feel better and God knows I deserved it.

Shouldn't I - above all other people - know how she felt? How she blamed herself for the disgrace she felt was an everlasting mark on her purity and soul, how she hated her beauty, how she blamed that and her vanity and stupidity for all that she had endured - I knew all of it and I provoked her. As she hit me again, harder now - I willed her to break something in me that would serve as full payment of the debt I realised I owed her.

She stopped me from running to Carlisle with my pathetic indiscretion, she saved me from myself.

Something twisted in my chest, where once a human heart had beat, and I realised something was happening.

Her face crumpled up as she hit me one last time, and if she had been able to cry tears - I have no doubt they would be free flowing. She fell to her knees, seemingly broken.

I had done that, broken her. _Oh yes Edward, bravo. Such a brave, strong hero you are! Taunt the girl who was brutally raped and murderer by her fiancé, tease her about her humiliation - make her life a little more unbearable. Honourable man that you are. _

Shuddering gasps wracked over her body and she wrapped her arms around herself, as if cold or physically falling apart. I stood for a moment, frozen in shock and guilt. Her mind was a stream of unbearable thoughts, every one of them pierced my heart, knowing I had stirred up the already potent ocean of horror in her mind.

I knelt down beside her and put my hands on her hair, stroking it gently. I expected her to flinch away from the contact and then launch at me, tearing out my eyes or something else more irreplaceable, I would have deserved it certainly. But she didn't, instead she moved forward into my arms and I held her there.

She shifted a little, so that she was completely on my lap now and she was weightless to me. I held her fast and strong, breathing in her scent which was utterly delicious, if not laced with the urgency of blood. I could feel her movements through my clothes, I could feel her eyelashes against the cloth of my shirt on my chest.

True, she was not crying but it slowed down nevertheless. She breathed slower, even though it was unnecessary to do so at all, and her body ceased to shudder and tremble. I still held her, looking out across the lake - wondering how this had come about.

"Edward," she mumbled against my chest. "You have to forgive me."

Her mind was singing a song in French. What was she hiding? "For what?"

There was an exquisitely painful moment, hovering between two worlds, a moment before something was about to happen and it was like someone slowing down time, painfully. I felt it too, I was sure she knew that. Her eyes were locked with mine, tearless and heartbreaking. It was ready to cascade, it was ready to rush into my heart…I was waiting for it, even though I didn't know what in hell or heaven it would be. I waited…

And absolutely nothing happened, except that she pulled away from me suddenly looking furious with herself and I couldn't have read her mind if it had been a child's ABC book.

She stood fully up, her hand over her mouth and even despite the forced silence, I could _feel_ the torrent of bitter emotions in her soul. I knew for one shining moment that the soul was absolutely real, and that Rosalie and I were not soulless creatures because I could feel her soul. Like déjà vu, the moment passed and with it all my certainty. The moon hid behind the clouds, it was darker again - heavily symbolic.

"I'm sorry Edward," she said, almost formally. I hated to hear that neat, reserved tone wrapped around my name, especially after whatever the hell had just happened (or not happened, to be exact).

I completely ignored that, and when I spoke I realised that somehow I was out of breath.

"Forgive you for what?"

She bristled and turned her ridiculously beautiful face away from me a fraction. "Don't," she whispered.

I could feel the anger now, the frustration - something had been about to _happen_ and she had known exactly what it was before she had stopped it. I hated not knowing, it was a bad expectation in life to want to know everything, to expect to know everything - but it was impossible to suppress.

"Damn it Rose! Forgive you for what?"

She clamped her hand over her mouth harder, as if about to be sick and closed her eyes tightly. Suddenly there were cracks in her tightly shut off mind and I could catch snippets of thoughts, translated barely into words as my gift heard them.

'…_never work, never believe, never see__…__stupid, stupid, stupid__…__never trust, never feel, promised yourself__…__!__'_

She was furious, broken. Not even furious with me for reasons beyond my comprehension, she was furious with herself. I genuinely didn't know why, but I desperately wanted to.

I moved forwards, for the first time in the history of existence I _wanted_ to be in close proximity to Rosalie Hale. To my surprise, she moved away from and completely turned her back to me. I could hear nothing, not the waves of the lake gently lapping a few feet from us, not the endless sounds of night and certainly not her mind. She was the first person I had even encountered who could shut me out or even attempt to screen the thoughts.

I frowned, confused and betrayed by my own feelings. I spoke softly, hoping her mind would relax and open up so I could see and know everything. "Rosalie, please."

"Stay out Edward," she warned, and now her voice indicated that I might be a common criminal on the street, about to mug her. I hated myself for even thinking of such a analogy the moment it passed through my mind.

I had no idea what to do. I, Edward Cullen, was at a loss for how to handle the situation. It was sheer madness, and I was caught in the very epicentre of it all.

So I did all that I could manage to do.

I left.

* * *

_A/N: I loved writing this chapter, sigh. Edward/Rosalie is always lovely, for me anyway. So please review if you liked it, I'd really love to hear what y'all think. x x x x_


	4. Chapter 4: Retribution

**-Chapter Four: Retribution -**

There was nothing else to be done about it. No other distraction would suffice and at this point - what did I care by what method I ripped out my soul?

I closed my eyes, trying to remember when I had ever felt this belittled by my own emotions. I came to the conclusion that it had never happened and it was only more incentive to do what I need to for this insanity to end.

Royce King had to die, and it had be fittingly horrific.

It was, after all, because of Royce King that all this was happening. This strange mess with Edward, this confusion, this pain and anguish - it was all his fault and he was out there somewhere, drinking and laughing with his friends….laughing about what he did to me.

CRACK! The rings on my cold, dead fingers snapped at the base of the metal, unable to take the pressure my hands were applying. It was unsatisfying, I wanted something louder to snap, something like bone.

I had never been a violent person, violence was so messy and boorish it never held any appeal to me. It was frightening, intimidating - something only ever associated with men. I knew that much, even from a very young age. But now it held a dangerous appeal, a wonderfully dark lure. I wanted to be violent and terrible, I wanted my revenge and I wanted it to be as grisly as I could make it. I wanted God to look away while I did it.

Purely out of habit, I looked around to see if Edward was anywhere near me, but of course he hadn't been around the house for weeks. Carlisle and Esme knew something was wrong, but they accepted my loving, well articulated assurances that Edward and I were getting along fine. It was a lie of course, no-one could ever say we were getting alone well. 'Getting along' implies friendship, jollity, amity. No - we would never have that, I knew.

But this strange, extremely confusing…._thing_….that had almost happened the other night, well I wasn't about to let that happen again.

Everyone has limits, not least of Rosalie Hale.

The gentle sunshine through the glass windows, reflecting softly off the pure white chiffon material did absolutely nothing to lighten my dark mood. I stayed out of the sunlight, hidden by a somewhat outdated parasol, full length gloves, dress and netted hat. The other women in the shop were glancing at me resentfully, envious of my beauty no doubt. I shook my head a fraction, bitterly. If they only knew at what price it had come. I watched one woman look away from me, invidiously, and lift her tiny baby from it's pram as it began to whine gently. She patted the baby's soft back, stroking the angelic hair.

I turned completely away, unable to look at the divine child for another moment. I had to be strong, had to keep myself in control…I just needed to buy a dress, that was all. Then it would be perfect.

The woman was eager to attend me, sensing I had money and taste. "How may I assist you today, Madam?" she asked me. The dresses I was surrounded by in the Bridal Shop were absolutely beautiful, each and every one of them individual and stunningly ornate.

"I…" but I couldn't go on, the baby was making painfully adorable gurgle sounds.

Without uttering even another word, I left the shop, sticking to the shadows as much as possible while my heart wrenched itself into self inflicted agony. It was worse to me than even the scent of the blood in all their veins, so delicious and demanding. The baby that I could never, ever have. It made me sick right down to my stomach, the maternal part of me screaming at the unfairness of it all.

My plans for Royce King took a turn for the worst, from his perspective anyway. I would come back later, steal a dress and go to where it had all happened. Back to Rochester where I would rip him apart until I felt whole again.

* * *

Luck, as well as warmth, control and my own heartbeat - had forsaken me. I could already taste his scent upon the cool air before I even reached the grounds of the home we all lived in. Why did he have to chose _now_ of all times to come back?

Edward was waiting for me at the door, and I knew that in my current state of ferocious excitement that I would not be able to hide my thoughts from him. He already knew anyway, it was written all over his beautiful face.

"Enjoy your shopping?" he asked, coolly. He saw that my hands were empty of bags and must have known that I had not yet purchased the dress in which I intended to wreak my gruesome revenge.

So he knew, but that did not mean I had to fall to my feet and beg him to stay silent.

"This," I said, disregarding all pretences. "Is more important than you and I, even Carlisle and Esme. I cannot exist in this world knowing that he is alive any longer."

I expected a tirade of reprimands, chiding me for my stupidity in risking being around the humans in town, for being so selfish and so injudicious. But they never came. He leaned against the frame of the lovely white wooden door, looking like the very personification of splendour. His hair fell across his eyes, deep and framed by thick eyelashes. His mouth was closed, not pulled in a grimace or even a thin line of disapproval. I waited, knowing that he was listening to my thoughts. The sun was almost set now, our home surrounded and shrouded by trees anyway.

"I know," he said finally, and his voice was resigned. It seemed he had given up trying to convince me otherwise. "You deserve your vengeance. They deserve to die. I have no qualms with that."

I crossed my arms. "What do you have qualms with?"

He looked down, carefully avoiding my gaze - it annoyed me. "I do not like the idea of you killing them."

"What?"

"Of _you_ killing them. I wish….I would prefer if you…"

I waited, wishing that I could read minds. "If you what?"

"I wish you would let me kill them for you." He said is fast, still perfectly calm, his timbre unwavering and strong - but I could tell he did not wish to look into my eyes, let alone my mind, as he said it. I felt a very small shiver go down my spine, perhaps it was guilt.

I tried not to sound sarcastic. "That's very generous of you, Edward. I cannot allow it of course. I must do it. I cannot….it has to be me."

He looked up, locking his eyes with mine. "You have never taken a life, Rosalie. It is not something you can come back from, not a nightmare you can wake from."

"I know. I have thought about nothing else."

He leaned away from the door now, closer to me. I wanted to step back, to remind him that we ought to maintain minimal proximity, but I couldn't.

"My hands are already bloodied, let me do this for you."

Something in the way he said it made my breath catch, even though it was a superfluous reflex. Very suddenly, I wanted to touch his face and reassure him that I was not denying his chivalry for spiteful reasons. I helplessly imagined what it would be like to touch his face, how it would feel.

He blinked, a little shocked suddenly and I cursed myself for allowing my mind to wander. "No," I said firmly. "I'm sorry Edward. I must do this myself."

His angelic face turned fierce. "I would not disappoint you, Rosalie." I wondered why he was now using my name as if it would soon be forbidden. "I would kill them befittingly, I swear it to you." The promise was filled with barely suppressed venom, I knew he meant what he was saying.

My voice softened. "I know you would. But I…have to do this."

He nodded, defeated, and looked away from me. "Carlisle understands. Esme too. They will forgive you, if they have not already."

"You told them?"

"Of course I told them. We will need to leave, go further away - immediately."

I wanted him to look at me, to sate the building hunger in my soul that came from being denied his beautiful face. I hated myself then for being so weak and so suddenly led by my own emotions. I told myself that it was the excitement of the upcoming event, nothing more.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He smiled, still not looking at me. "You are going to wear a wedding dress?" he asked, almost teasingly. How blasé he spoke of it now, the terrible deed I was planning. "I only wish I could be there to see it."

When I realised that I wanted him to be there, to see it - I coughed, completely unnecessarily. "Excuse me," I said hurriedly and began to sing my favourite French lullaby in my head so he could not hear my treacherous thoughts.

* * *

I knew with the most absolute certainty that this was all his fault.

I, Rosalie Hale, was not prone to fits of complete stupidity and gracelessness - and that it had to happen only around Edward damned Cullen was the very pinnacle of unfairness. I was a composed person, cool and steady - this was all Royce's doing, he had made me unhinged and he would pay for it now with his life.

The dress fit perfectly, I shuddered as I looked at myself in the mirror - the shudder in place of tears I would have cried, I was born to wear this dress and to think of what I would now do while wearing it…yes, I wanted God to look away.

And for some strange, undeniably macabre reason I wanted Edward to be there while it happened.

I shook myself, arranging my hair perfectly a few times in different styles before deciding to let it down; an unusual look for the time, only lower class women wore their hair down, but I didn't want to look…respectable or aristocratic. It didn't matter, I was beautiful either way. Yes, let my hair be down - he would appreciate the irony, or at the very least, the symbolism of that.

The night had fallen early, perhaps as eager in anticipation as I was for the grisly pièce de résistance to occur. The short journey back to Rochester had seemed brutally long, every inch crawled by even though I was running at top speed. I was ready for it, desperate to become the very embodiment of wrath and vengeance; to viciously kill them and watch them die.

And yet, there was a very small part of me that was against it. It didn't want to kill them, scare them yes - but not kill them. It was throwing Edward's words at me, trying to convince me otherwise.

"_You have never taken a life, Rosalie. It is not something you can come back from, not a nightmare you can wake from.__"_

His icy promise to me would undoubtedly come fully to fruition, but I would not make myself care - I was doing this, I wanted to do this, I had to do this; for the other women who could fall prey to his cruelty and sadism.

That steeled my resolve and I put Edward very firmly out of my head.

If only Royce King knew what was coming.

* * *

_A/N - this was a bit on the short side, but it's mainly owing to the fact that it's just filler really before the big act, involving more than just killing and revenge. Hope you all enjoyed, review oh please review!! Thanks for reading, more soon! x x x_


	5. Chapter 5: Curious

**- Chapter Five: Curious - **

*****

When I was alive and much younger, seven or eight perhaps, I allowed my curiosity to lead me somewhere that I deeply regretted. I was curious by nature, an inquisitive boy who always wanted to know _how_ and _why_. Never satisfied with surface data, never trusting of the lies my parents told me.

My father and mother bought me a dog when I was five years old, a rottweiler, for my birthday. The dog was like me, it followed me everywhere I went, sniffing at various things, curious about it's surroundings. My parents thought the dog would keep me safe, they named it Baskerville, Basker for short, as my parents were both big fans of Arthur Conan Doyle. Basker was supposed to be a guard dog, and while I was never particularly close to it - I still loved it when he would rest at my feet protectively, when he would nuzzle my hand for a stroke or a biscuit.

One day, I trod on his front paw by accident and he turned on me. The shock paralysed me and he bit into my shoulder viciously, snarling terribly. My parents came rushing into the lounge and rescued me. I was crying, shaken and bleeding badly.

Later that night, I had calmed down considerably and for some strange reason, my only thoughts were of Basker. I didn't want him to be beaten or punished, so I told my parents everything and begged them not to hurt him. My mother and father both reassured me that they wouldn't harm him, that he would simply have to go to a kennel and be with other dogs.

But I was suspicious when my father did not meet my eyes.

Later that night, I crept downstairs, my shoulder tingling painfully. I listened to them whispering, heard metallic clicking sounds and the whimpering dog. They went outside into the gardens, uncommonly vast for this area and I followed them, my feet cold and wet from the grass and the damp rain that had fallen only hours ago. I saw my father shoot the dog in the head with his shotgun.

I closed my eyes, the memory still bitter in my mouth. I knew this was deeply stupid, to follow her. Certainly I was far away enough that she could not sense me, and soon would be allowing other much more primal senses to rule her. She looked devastatingly lovely in the wedding dress, her hair around her shoulders long and flowing.

And I desperately wanted to see her kill them, more than that - I wanted her to let me do it for her.

I leaned against the cold wall of a house in a cobbled street and tried to clear my mind. This girl had brought nothing but chaos into my life, and yet….something was changing.

I couldn't explain it, I didn't really want to.

And like I had done when I was young; I followed.

* * *

The smell of fear was overwhelming, I didn't need to track anything else but that. I knew the low rent pubs and ale houses where Royce King and his friends would drink the nights away, I knew where he lived - where he would run to when she found him.

I made my way very quickly to his house, the air was thick with the tantalising scent of terror, but no blood. I knew just by the various subtle changes in air that someone was already dead, maybe more. The gate to his large, impressive Manor was wide open, deep foot prints were scuffed into the crunchy gravel leading to the front door.

Fingertips tingling with anticipation, I went inside the ground and towards the house.

Someone was screaming, a wrenching gurgling sound cut it off and then silence. The front door was wide open, small splinters were fractured into the wood owing to the urgency with which it was slammed into. The scent was overpowering now - absolute undiluted horror. I felt grimly thrilled, wanting the very worst punishment for them all, especially _him_.

A body at the foot of the stairs, snapped in half at the spine but still contained within the skin - not a drop of blood spilled. Another through the lounge, thrown into the wall where it stilled resided, imprinted like some travesty of a key in a soap bar. A few feet from where I stood, another body lay crumbled and broken. This one had been beaten to death, I could make out in the sparse moonlight that pierced the windows, that his skull was dented in several places. No blood, of course. Oh she was clever, Rosalie.

A sound caught my ears and I looked up, hoping to see her. The sound had sounded like a feverish prayer and had come through walls.

I could hear his thoughts then.

'…_God, God please…please…please don't let me die here….oh God please, please make it go away…I'm so sorry, please…oh God please no!…'_

I followed his thoughts, and realised he had locked himself in some kind of vault. I smiled at his stupidity, thinking that would really keep her out.

I turned the corner of the dark house and there she was, in the sparse moonlight in her wedding dress, eyes closed facing away from the vault, her back to it. She must have known I was there, surely she could smell me as I could her? I could have sensed her from fifty miles.

She smiled a little, parts of her dress torn by other men's frantic hands.

"I hoped you would come," she breathed. I couldn't even pull in oxygen, not that I needed to of course.

I wanted to speak, to say something that would just….make everything wonderful, I was even hyper aware of the childishness of my own thoughts but the primitive actions that were taking place had stripped me of all my sophistication and eloquence.

And it hit me, as I watched her turn around and tear the solid steel door from the vault. It hit me hard, in the very epicentre of my solar plexus.

I _wanted her._

Royce King's screams were little more to me than irritating birdsong in the morning, Rosalie seemed to immensely enjoy it. Her breathtaking smile widened as she stepped inside and left my sight. I could only hear them now, his thoughts and hers; his screams and her voice when she spoke.

"You remember me then, Royce darling?" she cooed softly. He screamed louder, gutturally.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" It echoed around the chamber filled with his money and family heirlooms, none of which could save him from the impending justice that stepped calmly towards him. "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU BITCH!"

I didn't like that at all. I could feel my hands itching to render him limb from limb, but I waited, determined to let her finish him her way. How _dare_ he call her that?

She laughed musically, but with a dark razor edge to it.

"Oh no, I do not think so. I have come for you - the fates your friends suffered were a kindness to what I have in store for you."

He was screaming endlessly, throwing things at her uselessly. I felt nothing for him, nothing but revulsion. Had I not witnessed the entire terribleness in Rosalie's mind, I might have felt pity - perhaps even insisted that she make it swift - but I knew what she had endured and I wanted his last moments on earth to surpass even what hell had in store for him.

And my Rosalie, as I thought of her for the first time, did certainly not disappoint.

* * *

I waited outside the house for her, looking up the perfectly clear night; the glittering diamond specks in the sky, the shining spherical moon. I leant against the wall of the house, telling myself that I was only here to protect our family; if anyone came along I could deal with it.

Pathetic, I knew even then.

I looked down at my own porcelain hands, which had bore blood so many times before. Not even very long ago, I remembered the taste, the deliciousness…God it was intoxicating. It made me forget about everything important, even my own family - the lengths I would go to get it were troubling even when it was only wrongdoers.

And then I thought of irritating, shallow, vain Rosalie Hale, inside Royce King's house ripping him apart. I thought of her mind, her face, her hair…her fierce eyes, haunted but strong. I remembered how I despised her when we first met, instantly bored by her vanity and arrogance; almost matching mine, but her femininity coloured it unremarkable. Females were notoriously conceited about their appearance and nothing but her superficiality made Rosalie Hale any different to any other girl I had ever encountered who was not a mother figure to me.

But now…what was she now? I could not deny I was in the grips of a strange, somewhat morbid fascination. It was not even her beauty, which was of course unprecedented, it was more that I could see into her soul and instead of being bored - I was helplessly entranced.

I had always thought my gift to be partially a curse, such a plethora of unwanted insight into the most mundane, secretly sadistic minds that ever walked the earth - it was a lot to bear. I was not interested that Mr Barnhurst was carrying on with the scullery maid and her sister, I did not care that Mr Andrews of east Rochester had an unsavoury obsession with the stable boy. It was all meaningless folly.

But her mind - it was darkly mesmeric. The conflict of satisfaction surrounding her beauty, the developing complex about the issue of her '_purity'_, how she believed she was worthless now and would never be anything but, and yet she still acknowledged that she _was_ undeniably superior in so many other ways. The memories of her mother and father that she clung onto with surprising ferocity; the dark vengeful thoughts she had clearly acted out her tonight, the longing to hold a baby made of her flesh and blood, the strange jealously she had for dirty, muddy common women and their overweight husbands and multitudes of bratty, noisy children - it was all captivating.

But lately, I was catching snippets of other thoughts and they involved me.

I knew that she hated me, on some level at least. But her thoughts of late were less hateful and more confused, embittered with confliction. She, I suspected, was feeling something a little similar to what I was.

I could hear her coming, so I shook myself from my reverie.

After what I had seen, I was prepared for her to be broken, devastated, in shock - anything. I was going to help her, do whatever I could…

I was not prepared for what I actually was faced with.

I must have gasped because she looked up, but didn't flinch or attempt to cover any part of herself.

She had completely removed the dress and wore now only underwear, her hair trailing down her shoulders looking like grey silk in the shadows. Her eyes bore no trace of regret or sadness, guilt or compunction. The stream of her thoughts were paced musically. That same French lullaby again. She hesitated momentarily, watching me carefully.

"He spat blood on me," she explained quietly. "I had to take off the dress."

I nodded, my throat closed up completely. There were no words for how she looked, even to my extensive and knowledgeable vocabulary.

"We should burn the house," she added as an afterthought. She walked towards me, I could hear the very faint rustle of her thighs as they brushed together. She didn't seem to care in the least that she was almost naked before me, in fact - she had never seemed to care about anything less. Her mind was cool, collected and peaceful.

'_You were wrong,'_ she thought calmly. _'It didn't feel terrible, or wrong or even horrible. It felt…good.'_

I closed my eyes and turned away, suddenly not trusting myself and having no real idea why. I shrugged off my jacket and handed it to her blindly. When she took it I felt her fingers brush with mine - her touch was electrifying.

"I shouldn't have followed you," I said, eyes stilled tightly closed.

She laughed very softly. "We both know I wanted you to see it."

I swallowed reflexively. "Why?"

"Because I wanted you to see that I am in control of who I am, that I am capable of looking after myself." The words did not match what her mind said, but I couldn't bring myself to point that out. She wanted me there for very different reasons.

"Rosalie…" I began, but she took my hand and pulled me around to face her. Like a stubborn child, I kept my eyes closed determined to be some echo of a gentleman. She laughed again, I felt her delicious breath on my face and was shocked that she was suddenly so close. "Please."

"Please what?" she asked, barely a whisper. "Tell me what you want, Edward?"

"I want….oh God I want¾"

It was happening again; the impossible moment lurching forward towards more madness and insanity, all tinged with dark desire and need. The feeling spread through my body like a blood stain from a stab wound, warm and numbing; yet setting my every fibre on electrical fire. Our eyes locked together, the earth seemed to stop turning, too interested in what would happen next to continue upon it's boring old axis.

Her fingers wrapped around the back of my neck, I shivered at the feel of her skin. She made to pull me towards her, and I was ready for it - God I was ready - but she stopped, her eyes breaking from mine.

Sounds, voices, people. Someone had heard something.

'…_the house,'_ she thought frantically. _'We must burn it, oh God but I don't care anymore about anything except…'_

I interrupted her before she could say it. "The dress is inside, retrieve it and we'll run. They will not suspect us, we shall be long gone."

We looked at one another with something resembling longing and utter despair, mixed in the realistic aspect of ourselves - confusion. It would have to wait, we could not risk being seen (even though the concept was laughable - the would never see us fleeing the scene).

She hesitated so I went to retrieve the dress in her stead, her thoughts were a jumble of bittersweet emotions I could not look into at this moment. I walked through the massacre in the house, carefully not to tread on anyone. No blood, save for that which he had spat. Clever, clever girl. I found the dress, picked it up - ignoring King's severed hand and shoulder as they fell to the floor, still gripping onto the material of the previously beautiful dress.

I was by her side again, outside in just under three seconds. She took the dress from me, our hands touching for the very briefest of moments, even by vampire time. Her thumb brushed my index finger too briefly and then we were running through the night, like frightened, exhilarated children - back the safety of our parents.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, continue to enjoy! Reviews?_

_Bex_

_x x x xx_


	6. Chapter 6: Bones of the Soul

**- Chapter Six: Bones of the Soul - **

I had always considered myself to be something more than what I was now. I was a woman of stature, beauty, eminence and of course - beauty. The latter was of little importance to me in the last years of my mortal life, I grew accustomed to the face in the mirror; beauty was my birthright, a God-given asset which would elevate me to a higher social ranking than the sphere into which I was born. I was a woman in control of her life, everything I dreamed of was within my reach and I had almost accomplished all that desired before I was even twenty years old.

And now, as I looked at the face in the mirror, I could see the stunningly beautiful face portraying more than just beauty. I could see myself, really and truly, for what I was. Vain, selfish, arrogant, stupid.

Those red eyes looked back at me with more than simple self loathing. How had there been a time that lace had mattered to me more than anything else? A new hat and dress had taken hours of planning and arranging; silk and embroidery, social etiquette, language, dancing, theatre, flowers and perfume had been the focal points of my existence. Looking now at what I had become, I could see those years wasted. Years that could have been spent travelling, falling in love with someone who would love me for who I was, who in years would give me a child and love me regardless of how beautiful I was and if my beauty faded and wrinkled, he would look at me and love me still.

Look at me now. Breathtakingly beautiful murderer, that I was.

My reflection looked back at me, challenging me to regret the murders I had committed. I could not force any measure of remorse, not even for Carlisle, for Esme or even God who surely looked down at me now, and named me damned.

I had lost control, and I had loved every leisurely moment of it. I was a monster, and I had lost the ability to fully care as I would have, were I still concerned with the intricacies of lace and the shades of roses to wear in my hair.

Worse still, was what seemed to be happening with Edward.

Even to think of it caused me internal pain. Whereas I could not regret the brutal (albeit cathartic) murders I had executed not one week ago, I could fully and bitterly regret my conduct towards Edward.

How could I be so stupid? Looked at in a cold light, Edward was wrong for me on every level that existed. Not only did he find me unattractive and boring, but he was also indifferent, cold and arrogant beyond even my claims to the failing. I would not have considered him when human, and now as a monster I could still see that he was ill matched but…something else was happening and it took no notice of my pragmatic thoughts on the matter.

And yet he was Edward, and the very simple acceptance of this made all my objections vanish instantly to be replaced with a very warm, foolishly hopeful internal smile. Edward Cullen - I had stood before him almost naked.

Of that, I was not concerned. The cold shadow of insecurity had never been cast upon me, and I knew that my body was as perfect and as beautiful as my face. No, what concerned me was that without the well timed interruption of the approaching crowd, I had been about to kiss him.

Rosalie Hale kissing Edward Cullen.

The very contemplation must have sent shivers through hell itself. Yet the private meditation of such an occurrence was far more pleasurable and I started to see myself wrapping my hands around his neck, his fingers in his hair…

This - this right here - is why I stare into this mirror.

I have lost who I am. The person I was well acquainted with for so long has forsaken me and this new person is unfamiliar to me. This new Rosalie almost frightens me. Almost as much as I was frightened by my feelings for a certain man, not 500 feet from where I lay on a very redundant bed, staring at the ceiling.

* * *

"Rosalie darling, please slow down," Carlisle implored gently. I smiled, his endearment was a welcome distraction. I was gushing my concerns, taking the opportunity to speak to him privately while _he_ was away for the week.

"I fear, without entering too far into theology, that I have lost my soul."

I knew by the lack of change in his eyes that Edward had warned him of this before he left and for the first time, I was grateful for the gift he had.

"Sit down, won't you?" he asked, with ease. I did so, happy to be in his company. The new house in which we now resided was larger than the previous one, Carlisle's study was already fully furnished and personalised. His medical licence hung on the wall framed in plan wood, some rare and particular art on the northern wall and the cross of his father adorned the wall behind me, invoking unnecessary irony. "I have been meaning to speak to you."

I did not have to be Edward to know what was coming. Royce King would undoubtedly be the centre of _this_ conversation.

He smiled, seeing my face perhaps. "You know I bear you no resentment for your actions towards King and his companions. It was your justice to serve."

I nodded, smiling in return. "You are too forgiving. I fear…I fear that God will not follow your example."

He leaned across the desk slightly, his cold hand extending warmly towards me and I took it. "Rosalie, what do you think the soul is?"

I had thought of this a great deal. "Who I am. My person. Me."

His eyes smiled, pleased with my simple answer. "Then you have not lost your soul, have you?"

"But I feel I have become something I am not."

"You feel you are changing?"

"Yes. Beyond recognition. Surely if I had lost my soul, I would not recognise myself in the mirror. I would be a stranger to my own feelings and emotions."

His smile became knowing. "Edward."

"What?"

"Rosalie," he said again, opening the sentence again with my name. "Can you not see the way he looks at you?"

I closed my eyes, wishing he had not said that. "But he…it's not…"

"You have not yet been a vampire for three months, all of eternity waits before you. Do not be hasty in decisions. They will come to you."

Certainly he was understanding, but he did not _understand_. I loved him too much to point it out, so I smiled because he loved my smile.

"You are right, of course. I confess I was melancholy, but now I feel much more confident that the situation will dissolve itself. Thank you, Carlisle."

I stood up, and he stood politely with me. "We are attending the Grascon's soirée this evening, will you attend?"

He knew I would not, more accurately could not, but he asked out of politeness and notification that I would be alone that night.

"No thank you, I will utilise the time alone to practise the piano."

Perhaps he was wise to my charming lies, but he kissed my cheek anyway and said "Music and love. The bare bones of a soul."

* * *

My fingers moved with fluidity over the smooth, ivory keys creating the sounds that the sheet music instructed. I was not as good as I wanted to be, but I had forever to learn and I loved music. When I was young, I would have been considered accomplished. I had been able to play piano from a very young age.

Chopin. My favourite composer in all the world. Nocturne Opus 9.

I began to lose myself in the beautiful repetition of the music, closing my eyes and ignoring the notes and instructions. I moved my hands and played the music, but my mind was miles away.

I wondered who Edward's favourite composer was, I knew he played the piano because it was his, situated in the room next to his.

"Debussy."

I hit the wrong note.

"Sorry," he said, closing the door behind him. "I did not mean to disturb you."

Not possible. He must have appeared literally out of thin air. I would have sensed him coming.

"I came through the window," he explained and as if to support his claim, a gentle sweet smelling breeze blew threw the newly opened window, filling the nearly empty room with cool night air.

"You were away, gone for a week."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "Forgive me, Miss Bennett - I returned to Pemberly a day early."

"A week early, Mr Darcy." Why, _why_ was I playing along?

"I could not stay away, I confess I…" but he trailed off, unable to finish his confession.

I rose from the piano stood and faced him, as a man faces his own demise. He looked surprised by what he saw in my face, but contained it well.

"You wish me to leave?"

I was impatient with his courtesy. "You are suddenly compliant with my wishes now, Edward?" I snapped. "Why have you come here?"

"I live here."

"Why have you come to _me_?"

He looked away from my eyes, perhaps afraid I would read them as well as he could read my thoughts. "I can't explain it."

"Well in that case, I am _thrilled_ that you have come to me to vent your vague and unmistakably irritating angst!"

I was being irrational, I knew that and so did he but I was losing all patience and the nameless frustration was driving me mad.

"I know you feel it too!" he said, replying to that which I had not voiced aloud, but instead - thought. I hated when he did that. "And like me, you cannot explain it!"

"Explain what? There is nothing to explain!" Foolish to lie to a telepath, but I was not about to vocalise the insanity swimming around in my head.

Before I knew what had happened, he was in front of me then and had me by the shoulders, our faces inches away from each other "Explain," he ground out, the tension straining his voice. "Why all I want to do is kiss you."

Oh God, this could not be happening to me, surely no God would allow this to happen to me! But sure enough, I could the feel my bones treacherously warming to his touch and closeness. I could feel my breath coming faster, my mouth as dry as it had ever been and all I wanted to do was kiss him.

He heard _that_ because he gasped a little and smiled. "I knew it! I knew you felt it too!"

Violently, I wrenched myself from his grip. "How _dare_ you violate me like that!" I spat at him, choosing my word carefully, so as to hurt him enough. It worked. He recoiled from it, from the very possibility that I had anything with which to accuse him that might place him on the same level as Royce King.

He put all the feeling he had into his response. "**_I can't help it_**!" I knew then that he was speaking of more than just his involuntary ability to read minds.

"Try!" I scathed.

He was clearly disgusted by my base accusation. "You need not work so hard to make yourself unlovable, Rose."

He left me, again.

* * *

This time, he was gone for a month.

He left me in such a state that I sunk into a terrible depression, but I was so talented a liar that neither Carlisle nor Esme noticed. I hunted with them, we spoke, we laughed, I read endless amounts of books and listened to endless music. I played Edward's piano, always fearful he would return home and walk in - always disappointed when he did not.

1934 was approaching. November was starting to spread out beneath my feet, cold and beautiful as it always was, laced with snow and dark skies, the smell of bonfires and ice in the air. I always loved this month, my birthday came on the 11th and previous to now, my birthdays were always wonderfully lavish and grand. Something to look forward to. Now, of course, all that was gone. My life before seemed like a beautiful lie my mother had told me to make the night seem less frightening. I missed the deception, the ignorance, the warmth.

I missed Edward.

But I hated to admit that, because of so many reasons. I hated that he was gone, but I hated the fact that his return was immenant. I hated my feelings for him. I hated _him_. But most of all - I hated myself for acting in such a stupid way.

I knew why I was partially terrified to let him touch me, to follow my own feelings and trust that I could control them, but it did not change my resentment towards these instincts.

That was the right word, very apt. Instinct. What I felt for him was instinctual. I knew it was wrong, the rational part of me knew that but the instinctual part of me disregarded that - it wanted him. I wanted him, badly.

Six in the morning, how I wished I could sleep. The endless days and nights all bled into one continuum of melancholia and despondency.

I wanted him, if only for someone to scream at.

* * *

The following night he came back, everything changed forever……

_A/N - So things are getting better/more intense/hotter huh? Well I hope so at any rate. Next chapter up VERY soon, as it's a deliciously sexy chapter and I JUST LOVE writing stuff like that. PLEASE review, I love your reviews!! Thank for reading! x x x_


	7. Chapter 7: Breaking

**- Chapter Seven: Breaking - **

When I returned home to Carlisle and Esme, I had already decided upon my course of action for how to deal with the third occupant of the house. It was a cold cut decision, but the only one I could think of that would lead to a sane outcome.

I would make Rosalie believe that I wanted nothing to do with her, and I this time I would damned well succeed.

It would be difficult to lie to her, she was so observant, too clever for her own good. This meant I would have to be cruel, but it could work. And as I planned the particulars of my upcoming cruelties, I realised how violently I hated myself for this.

But I had given it much thought and this was the _only_ sane solution. Truly.

The other solution, of course, was far less painful. The other solution involved me wrapping my hands around her back, sliding one hand into her hair and kissing her, pulling her closer to my body…

As you can surely see, that solution is not a feasible one. She would knock my head clean off my body before I could ever try it.

So I would be cruel to be kind.

My plan seemed watertight, but of course I had not factored into it the very capricious nature of a certain Miss Hale.

The night I returned, everything changed forever.

"Oh my darling boy!" Esme exclaimed, pulling me into a surprisingly fierce hug for such a gentle woman. "You have been gone far too long!"

Behind her Carlisle smiled warmly, expressing the same feelings in a less physical manner. "We have missed you."

'_She has missed you too.__'_

I chose to ignore that, well aware of who he meant. "I missed you all," I replied, hugging Esme in return.

When she pulled away she took my face in her hands and studied me. "Your eyes are dark, you should feed."

"No, I fed not long ago," I lied reassuringly. Carlisle raised his eyes to the heavens, seeing straight through my lie. _She_ was not here, I could sense that without even listening for her thoughts.

"Rosalie is hunting in the forest near the grounds," he said casually, answering my unspoken question.

"You let her hunt alone?"

Both Carlisle and Esme looked a little concerned.

'_Poor girl, so lost and so alone__…__haunted by her memories__…'_

'…_determined to prove herself, beyond all capability__…__determined to be alone and be happy with that__…'_

Their thoughts were reply enough, but they answered me verbally anyway. "She is very much in control of herself, Edward," Carlisle said, with a rather obvious double entendre.

"I know." Indeed I did know.

"She will be glad you have returned," Esme lied kindly. "Why not go seek her out in the forest? You look in need of nourishment."

Carlisle laughed congenially, wrapping his arms around his wife and soul mate. "He does indeed, go to her Edward and satisfy your thirst." More, very unnecessary, double entendre. He was almost playing with me, making a joke out of the obvious tension between Rosalie and myself. I could not help but wonder if she had spoken to them of the awkward circumstances.

I hugged Esme once more, exchanged a look with Carlisle and then headed outside to find Rosalie and bestow my well intentioned cruelties upon her.

* * *

Each step towards the dark, looming forest on the edge of the grounds, resounded in my soul, echoing almost. Strange, how each dully thud seemed louder than usual. I could feel the crunch of each blade of grass, the earth beneath my shoes, the growing roots and the worms. The earth and the dirt - a place I would never be laid to. Death, of the human kind at least, could never lay it's hands upon me.

The trees whispered and hissed as the wind rustled through them, the air was cold and brittle. It was minutes away from snowing, the moon in the sky glowed with a lovely fullness.

Somewhere in the woods, Rosalie was hunting to slake her thirst. I had never seen her hunt, the prospect made my fingertips tingle. I theorised then that perhaps my fascination for her was little else than animalistic instinct - drawn to her beauty and her wildness, coming free after so long caged. But I knew, as I walked towards her, picking up her scent upon the breeze, that it was more than that.

I became hyper aware of her scent as I entered the woodland area. It was not uncommon for such an estate as this to be situated upon a forest; useful for hunting and other such recreational sports. Of course, this aided in reducing suspicions. We were hunting the animals, true enough - of course, we did not use shotguns.

The scent of blood hit me, even animal blood was enough to send my throat in a fiery rage. This was bad already, I could not stay so rational if I was like this. The raging hunger, both literal and figurative, would drive out all ability to stay calm.

But it was too late now. Just as I had caught her scent, she had caught mine.

'_Edward.__'_

The thought was laced with heavy wildness; an uncontrolled nature about it. She had only just fed, her mind still in the frenzy of bloodlust. I could _feel_ everything she felt in that moment and it only served to make my deed that much more difficult.

Barely ten seconds had passed before she came to me, the unnatural speed we possessed brought her to me from a mile away. The sight of her made the words catch in my throat.

Her hair loose and wild, a few leaves and twigs caught in it enchantingly, her cheeks flushed with the recent delight of feeding, her eyes brightly reflecting the moon. It was beyond toleration. She was not wearing a dress, very unusual for the time. Instead she wore a beautiful emerald shirt, laced and threaded with silver, corseted at the front. A garment of such beauty that was intended to be worn with a long, flowing skirt of some sort - but Rosalie wore it with black trousers, undoubtedly belonging to Carlisle. I had never encountered an upper class woman, immortal or not, wearing such a combination. Before I knew it, I was smiling. Damn. Not good.

And suddenly, she seemed to be the mind reader.

"I believe it will catch on," she said, a little out of breath.

I pretended to have paid no such attention to her apparel. "Excuse me?"

"Perhaps not in the upper classes yet, admittedly," she went on, walking towards me as if I had not denied it. "But I think it will catch on regardless." Her eyes were bright, a faded pink now rather than red. The pink of a rose, akin to her name. "Do you not agree?"

She was stalling, but why I could not fathom. "Very much so. Although you cannot possess the title of trailblazer for such a fashion, you know."

She smiled beautifully, so calm and relaxed. "Yes, but for these parts I predict I will cause a stir when I enter into society - wearing Carlisle's trousers."

"And your hair?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

"I like it down," she said, and I must have imagined her eyes darkening ever so slightly. "I grow weary of these antiquated fashions."

"It is too early in your immortality to say that," I pointed out. The conversation was radically different from what I imagined.

"Perhaps," she said, pulling a stray leaf from her hair and throwing it away carelessly. "But I am seeing things more clearly now."

Ah, finally - a way in. "As do I, Rosalie."

She nodded, something in her face changed. "Regale me then."

I waited for the words to come. I was good with words, I knew so many of them. I could articulate perfectly what I wanted to say, but as I waited - they were not forthcoming. I opened and closed my mouth stupidly until she spoke over my loud silence.

"Or perhaps I ought to speak for you," she said, crossing her arms. "For I know what you have come here to tell me, Edward."

She closed her mouth, and spoke in her mind.

'_Rosalie, listen to me.__'_ she said, in an almost perfect imitation of my own voice. _'__I must tell you something and it is imperative that you hear it. I believe that I have done you great wrong. I have given you the impression that I feel for you, owing to the intensity of our last meeting - however nothing could be further from the truth. I have to make it clear to you that while we may come to feel some sibling-esque regard for one another, over time, that is the absolute height of what we can expect from a relationship. I believe I reacted to your vulnerability, more than my own feelings for you. My chivalry took over and I misled you. Forgive me in this, but believe me - for you I feel nothing. Nothing at all.__'_

I was astounded, suddenly utterly convinced that _she could_ read minds. I understood there and then what she meant by 'violation'. It was a violation and I had never fully understood just how people felt when I listened to their innermost private thoughts, until now.

Of course, I realised a moment later that she couldn't read my mind. If she had read my mind truly, she would not have said _that_, for even though that was exactly what I had come to say - it was not what I felt.

She waited, face shuttered and cold - still achingly lovely, for me to react.

"What other truth can there be?"

"I do not contest it. I confirm it."

I hated that she was reacting exactly how I wanted her to react. Cold, hurt, withdrawn. A selfish, childish part of me wanted her to fight the lie, to challenge it.

"It is the best way."

She smiled bitterly. "What claim can you make to such knowledge? You can barely exercise control over your hunger, why exert such energies to something as simple and primal as this?"

I wished I was confused by what she was saying, but the truth was that I understood her perfectly. Her resolve and omniscience was weakening my resolve.

"Best for you," I tried. She was closer to me again, I had not seen her moving. If I reached out now, my fingertips would brush her face, her perfect creamy skin, her full red lips. I gritted my teeth, willing myself not to entertain such thoughts.

"Allow me to decide that!" she said sharply, I could see I was wearing her patience away, bit by bit. That was good - if she was weak, I could be strong. "You are not my father!"

"You are mistaking kindness for something else, Rosalie!" I said cruelly. Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowed and she watched me closely, undoubtedly seeing if I was serious. "Something else that does not exist!"

"The prey tell me, what am I mistaking this non-existent kindness for?"

It shouldn't be this hard, should it?

"For that which you can never have! For love, passion, closeness. That which you had but lost at the hands of a man destined to be your husband. You lost your chance with him, you are displacing your desperation to have that love, but with me. You are delusional and I can tolerate it no longer!"

Perhaps not that well articulated after all. Most of what needed to be said was edited. I could not bear to be that cruel, not could I bear to look at her - see her achingly exquisite face reflecting my words.

It was a while before she spoke, the moments passed like hours until she inhaled to speak. "I don't think so, Edward," she said softly. "You can do better."

"What?" I looked at her face, I had to. I could see I had hurt her, but that she was doing the mental equivalent of breathing through it.

"You can do much better than that. Come now, don't hold back. You can be much more brutal."

"You seek to provoke me?" I asked, half absorbed, half appalled.

"You have yet to speak of my impurity, my vices," she said encouragingly, but I knew that beneath her gentle words was laced a poison, sharp and lethal.

"I think I said all that I needed to."

She was too close now, much too close and if I stepped back it would be a sign of weakness, but…dear God she was too close. I could almost feel her, if she moved now her body would brush with mine.

"I disagree," she said, her eyes locked with mine. "Come on, Edward. Call me names. Hurt me. Call me a whore."

"I'll call you insane if you like!" I hissed.

Her smiled curled. "Coward. If you wish to convince me of your indifference, hurt me. Make me hate you."

"No task there."

"You have no idea," she whispered, this strange, insane thing before me. _'__No idea at all__…'_

Her mind was mostly pre-empting her speech, but the shape of her thoughts were unlike anything I had ever felt before. Wild, driven, out of control - the monster in me loved it. It smiled widely, revelling in all that she was.

He right hand brushed with mine and something in me woke up. I grabbed her wrist, lifting it between our faces. "This will not happen, Rose!" I said as firmly as possible. I was trying to echo Carlisle when he realised I had been feeding on humans.

But she snatched her hand away from mine and instead took both my wrists, locking her fingers around them, trapping me. She was stronger than me of course, and even if I had struggled (which I didn't) it would have been to no avail.

"What if I say it will?"

"Then you are no better than Royce King!"

I had done it, gone too far. She let my hands drop immediately, her eyes filling with loathing.

"You hate me this much?" she snarled. "You would sink to such a low as to have my keep my distance?"

I closed my eyes. "Yes."

"As you wish."

When I opened my eyes, she was gone.

* * *

Back at house I tried to organise my thoughts. By nature I was a controlled being, or at least I had been once. Allowing myself to be driven by hunger and desire were great faults in my estimation.

I felt as if I were shaking, even though I could not. It would be dawn soon enough, another part to the endless span of time that passed me by while I stood, unchanging and eternal. Walking down the hallway, heading towards my room, it began to crush upon me - the weight of my actions.

I might as well have been drowning, it came in one massive cavalcade - the guilt, the shame, the pity, the self loathing and the sheer desire to have her close to me so I could make it alright again.

Before I could stop myself, my fist had gone through a magnolia wall, all the way through. It was only when the door flew open did I realise that I had punched a hole in Rosalie's room.

Her mouth was open in a little 'O' of surprise, still fully dressed though in a different outfit now, black and red, she looked at me then at my arm halfway inside her room. Music echoed into the hallway as I stood, frozen and unsure of what to do.

Finally she spoke. "You blamed my wall?"

And to my utter amazement, she laughed. It was possibly the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Like the golden bubbling of spring water, the chimes of a monastery, the birdsong of rare breeds.

"Oh Edward!" she breathed, still laughing.

"What's funny?" I asked, slightly offended as I pulled my unscathed arm from her wall, brushing off the plaster.

"What isn't?" she asked, putting her soft hand on my shoulder. "Let us forget this madness, I forgive you your cruelties, forgive me of mine."

What was happening? "You have done nothing wrong!" I protested.

"Come inside, won't you?" she asked, leaving the hallway and retreating into her room.

Of course I followed. There might well have been a time when I was knew my own mind, was strong enough to resist - such times were a faded memory now, caught up in the sheer madness of it all.

She had kept this room strangely bare. I knew Rosalie's love of aesthetics and was somewhat mystified by the simple cream walls, the wooden chairs, one set by the window. The music did not surprise me, an antique gramophone sat in the corner surrounded by various records.

"Rosalie," I said in what should have been a strong voice. "Please, stop confusing me. What are you doing?"

It was rude to speak to her like that, but I couldn't force myself into caring and she didn't seem to have even noticed.

She clicked the door shut behind her, an oddly quaint gesture - in this house, closed doors meant nothing. The door closing was almost symbolic.

"What do you think I am doing?"

"Desist with these mind games!"

The gentle smile fell from her face, instantly replaced with something cold and feral. I didn't like it.

"Look around Edward! What do you _think_ I am doing?" She threw her arms wide, gesturing around the room. "I'm here, right here in front of you! You're in my room, with me and you know - you _know _that I want you! How much more do you need me to do?"

I was stunned and words abandoned me. She didn't wait for a reply.

"Why are you making this so difficult?" she asked, her voice almost breaking, her face so hurt. "Why are you denying me this?"

And it hit me. "You want this?"

"I know you don't like me Edward, and I cannot think of how to change that - but give me this. Give me this small measure of solace, I am not hard to look at - please, just give me this."

She was insane, her moods swimming from one erratic temperature to the next. Carlisle had made a broken vampire. It was the only explanation. Her thoughts were totally synonymous with her speech - every word was true.

"It's not right, Rose…" I began, but she swiftly interrupted me.

"Nothing it right, Edward. Nothing in the world is right. I have learnt that, if nothing else but you…I cannot explain it, but somehow you are a compulsion within me. You draw me to you and I cannot deny it's strength any longer. Call it love, lust, passion - whatever you will, but do not deny me this."

I broke.

We both moved into the kiss, sensing the crumbling wall that had maintained the line between us. It crashed down and with it went all my sense, my denial and my strength. I kissed her fiercely, pulling her to me as she moved to mould herself to my body. I had never kissed anyone before and my mind was exploding softly. It was beyond almost anything in this world that I had experienced. The intensity, the passion - the sheer cold heat between us. The voices all shut up, I could breathe only silence and it was perfect. She made a small noise in the back of her throat and pulled me closer to her. I made no move to object. She tasted unimaginably delicious, the feel of her hair and skin beneath my fingers was incredible, far superior to my imagination.

When she ran her fingers through my hair, I actually shivered.

She broke the kiss, eyes heavy lidded with lust. "Are you sorry?" she whispered, holding me close, her lips inches from mine which still throbbed with the memory of her kissing me.

I should say yes. I should push her away. I should tell her that I would not allow myself to be used like this. I should say sorry. I should leave. I knew all that I should do.

But instead I yanked her to me, devouring her mouth with my own, tangling my hands in her silken hair while she clawed at my skin to pull me closer; though it simply wasn't possible. There couldn't have been a millimetre of space between our bodies.

Suddenly we were moving, something collided with my back and for a moment I thought we had been interrupted, but it was the wall. She had slammed me into it. A loud crack came from behind me, the wall was dented, but neither of us could stop the frenzied kiss.

The tension, the suppressed lust - everything that I had felt for her and denied was all coming to the surface and I put it all into that kiss, the never ending kiss. Neither one of us needed to breathe, so why would we stop? Why would we ever stop? Stopping seemed like a terrible idea.

I could think of nothing but her, she filled my mind as I kissed her. Rosalie - spoilt, arroant, dark, cruel, selfish, broken, beautiful, angelic, demonic, cataclysmic, divine, wonderful Rosalie.

I stopped caring, I stopped thinking and let myself melt into her.

* * *

_A/N - I'm so sorry this took FOREVER to write and I'm still not entirely happy with it, but please review! I'd love some feedback, thansk to everyone who has reviewed so far - you're angels, all of you. Hope you still like, more up soon x x x x xx_


	8. Chapter 8: Dangerous

**_-_Chapter Eight: Dangerous- **

I laced my fingers together, it had never been more difficult to shape my face into contrition. I had to look sorry, ashamed but still cold and angry.

And I was none of those things.

Carlisle paced a few more steps before continuing. A good ten feet from me, Edward sat in a chair, leaning back looking exactly what I was trying to appear. I forced myself not to look at him, because if I did - all was lost.

"I never thought it would come to this," Carlisle was saying, disappointment heavy in his words. "That I would have to say something like this, especially to you Edward."

Edward looked to the side slightly. I knew he hated this, could not bear Carlisle's displeasure, but what else could we do?

"Fighting is the very last thing I expected from you," Carlisle continued, berating us like we were children. "And to break through a wall - a load bearing wall? Half the east wing collapsed, it has caused suspicion beyond repair!"

Somehow I could not feel sorry. I was sorry that we had to lie so much, I was sorry that Carlisle thought we hated each other enough to fight - but I was certainly not sorry that we had broken through the east wing wall. Not at all.

"It is childish, beneath you both!" he went on. "Something I would expect from a pair of five year olds, not mature young adults who…."

'_I told you it was load bearing__'_ I thought mischievously. He didn't react of course, but I felt somehow that he was smiling inside.

"…cannot see the reason for such hostility…"

'_Perhaps we should even up the damage, collapse the west wing and give the manor some sense of symmetry,__'_ I thought recklessly, trying - and not knowing why - to provoke a reaction from him. I failed. He sat stock still, his face sombre and grim, slightly arrogant still. I wanted to kiss that face, taste his lips and feel him against my body, feel his hands on my back…

"Rose, I do not blame you so much in this," Carlisle said, a little softer. His eyes were gentler with me, I knew he could not bear to upset me more than necessary.

"No, please - I am to blame here, forgive me," I said genuinely. He smiled a little, I knew the anger was wearing off.

'_I__'__ll bet,__'_ I thought. _'__That the wall behind you isn__'__t load bearing. Up to the challenge Mr Cullen?__'_

He blinked. I had succeeded, if only slightly. Edward never blinked. Carlisle didn't notice. He was continuing his speech about how we all had to get along, how he and Esme loved us both, family, trust, eternity etc…

It was so dangerous, to be playing these little games, but I didn't care. Even though there was a silent agreement to keep it strictly secret, we often came dangerously close to being discovered. Collapsing the east wing was one of the worst. This current game was similarly dangerous, Carlisle's perception was impressive - he only needed to pick up on one stray look and he would know - and that would be a bad thing indeed.

But I carried on, wishing I could hear his thoughts.

'_Are you thinking about me?__'_

To my absolute (but well contained) surprise, he nodded fractionally, moving his head down and then up only once, not taking his eyes off the floor. It could have been a nod, agreeing with Carlisle's mantra - but I knew it was about me, he was thinking of me. I couldn't help it - the corners of my mouth curled a millimetre each side in a tiny, almost invisible smile.

_Almost _invisible.

Carlisle stopped mid sentence. He frowned slightly, looking at Edward, then me, then back at Edward again. Oh God - he knew, we had gone too far and been too reckless!

But he shook his head, resuming his soliloquy.

It was too much to bear, he was so close and I wanted him like nothing else in the world - I could smell him, practically taste him, I suddenly began to fantasise wildly about what would happen if I just gave in to it - to hell with secrecy.

Edward looked up at Carlisle so suddenly that I almost jumped. "You're right," he said firmly and loudly. "Of course you're right. We are both deeply sorry, nothing like that will ever, _ever_ happen again I swear it."

Carlisle looked a little surprised by the outburst, but conceded with a forgiving smile. Before I could say anything, Edward patted Carlisle on the shoulder and fled the room.

* * *

Something was wrong.

Well, of course - many things were wrong, but now something _else_ was wrong and I knew it had something to do with my thoughts back in the room where we were berated. I had not seen him for nearly a whole day, I grew restless and irritable - wanting him near.

When he returned to me, at our place in the forest, I suddenly knew what was wrong.

"That was too close," he said coldly. "It's over."

But this was a song sang many times before. I knew how this would begin and I most definitely knew how it would end. Three months had given me a routine that I was used to.

"NO, Rose!" he said sharply. "I'm serious!"

"Carlisle does not suspect, you are more paranoid than serious," I said calmly.

He looked at me, a dangerous tactic. Normally looking at one another resulted in one of the two things. A fight or the other, far more pleasurable kind of fight. "This has become too perilous, even for creatures such as you and I. It ends, now."

I pushed the limit further, with a risky method. "Darling," I chanced. "What's wrong?"

His eyes flashed, I knew he felt strongly about terms of endearment - depending on his mood, usually he hated them. "What's wrong? Tell me what's _right_!?"

I grabbed his collar and yanked him ruthlessly to me, kissing him. He didn't pull away, but when I let him go, he put his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes.

"_That_ is right!" I said strongly. "This is not wrong!"

"Then why must it be a secret?" he retaliated.

"You know why!"

"If there is nothing wrong with it, why must it be a secret?" He was being unfair now, he knew as well as I did why it could never be made public.

"You are wasting the little time we have, Edward. They will return soon enough."

His mouth tightened, I could see the tension in every crevice and muscle of his body, I could feel it coming off him in waves. I wanted to kiss him, run my fingers through his hair the way he loved it and let him lose himself in me, let ourselves become one and lost and altogether delivered, trembling and violently beautiful.

He groaned, having heard my thoughts. "Stop it," he whispered.

"Make me," I teased.

He slammed my back against the tree suddenly, our noses touching but not kissing. His eyes were burning into my soul, the intensity was smouldering.

"Don't push me, Rose," he warned, but it was an empty warning. He would rather have ripped off his own face rather than hurt me. We knew each other well enough, despite the denial, that we knew what we liked. We knew the limits, and I pushed most of them - but he didn't.

He knew, for instance, that when we kissed - it could not be gentle, or tender or slow. He knew I could not bear it like that and so we never did. He knew never to point out how truly deranged I might actually be becoming. He knew never to call me what I was; dark. He knew why it had to be a secret.

I curled my knee around the back of his thigh, pulling him closed to me. He gritted his teeth, trying to stay focused and failing. I fingered his hair, running my fingertips down the side of his face, his neck and then down his chest. I slid my hand up under his shift, un-tucking it from his trousers. His breath caught and he closed his eyes. I made swirling motions around his belly button with my fingers, tracing little circles. His mouth opened slightly, as did mine but still we did not kiss.

"God…" he moaned. "We can't."

'_We can, we will, we should, we must__…'_ I thought.

My fingers trailed down, his resolve vanished and his lips collided with mine in a crash that would have bruised anyone else's mouth. We clung to each other, pulling and clawing, desperate to crawl inside one another.

Behind me, the tree cracked and groaned with pressure. I pushed against him, and he made a strangled noise in the base of his throat. It sent my head spinning to new levels of delight. He was losing control, losing it all in me and I loved it.

He muttered my name against my own lips before the tree gave out and collapsed behind us.

* * *

Later on, I looked in the mirror - not an uncommon pastime for me, really. I was beyond beautiful, the incarnation of splendour, except that now I had mud and leaves in my hair, my pale, creamy face was smeared with dirt and I had several bite marks on my shoulder and one on my bottom lip. Carlisle and Esme were due to return from the social gather soon, not as soon as I had told Edward of course, but still soon.

I decided to take a bath, something I had not had to do for an extremely long time.

The bathroom was lavishly white, a beautiful bathtub large enough for at least three people. I began to run it, scalding hot water that would require no cold whatsoever - I could have the bath as hot as it got and not feel any kind of pain.

While the steaming hot water filled up the large, white marble tub I let my mind wander. It had passed the point now where I cared if he heard me or not. It was still my mind, and I had to think.

What was happening? What was I turning into? Every moment of my existence seemed determined to change me into something new. This connection with Edward could not be construed as good, could it? Unhealthy, dark, uncontrolled, dangerous - definitely not good.

And yet it felt so undeniably good in every way possible.

I knew what was happening, despite everything I was doing to prevent it. Despite forbidding him to kiss me lovingly, despite forbidding tenderness of any kind - it was happening regardless.

I refused to voice the thought, there _were_ still some limits.

From down the hall, I heard him play the piano. Debussy again, '_Reverie__'_this time. I adored that song, much preferring it to the well worn, generically adored 'Claire de Lune'. He played with exquisite finesse, but the keys and the tempo moved a touch faster than they ought to. I knew, from this alone, that he was harassed. My thoughts could not be helping him, so I attempted to silence my mind.

When the bath was run, as deep as possible and as hot as water could be before it began to bubble - I undressed and submerged myself in the scalding hot water that, to me, felt pleasantly warm.

I lay there for a while, underwater completely - I had no necessity to breathe after all - and wondered if he could still hear my thoughts through the water. I felt silly immediately; of course he could.

After about twelve minutes underwater, I grew bored of it and sat up, putting my arms either side of the tub, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I had forgotten how nice this could feel.

I could hear him playing, it was almost as if he were in here with me. I smiled slightly at the thought, although it wasn't even that obscene.

From down the hall, he accidentally hit a dull note.

I opened my eyes. Damn. He had heard me, of course he heard me. No privacy in this house.

I wondered briefly how it actually worked, if he could _see_ my thoughts, or simply hear them. If he could hear them that was one thing, if he could see them…well that was another. I lifted my hand out of the water and looked at it, twisting it around as it gave off steam, shining in the light. The music stopped completely, followed almost immediately by a knock on the door.

"I can both see and hear you - the better I know someone, the stronger the connection. Can you _please_ stop distracting me now?" he begged through the door.

A thought hit me, and before I had time to voice it - he cut me off.

"No, Rose!" It seemed to be all he ever said to me lately.

I said it anyway, just to show him that I didn't care in the least about his infuriating prescience. "The door is not locked."

But he had left by now, turned away and gone - no doubt to allow himself the opportunity to wallow in self pity and angst a little more.

I went back underwater.

* * *

It was approaching dawn, yet another endless sunrise on the horizon, announcing the end of a night that, for me, would never end. It was beautiful and yet at the same exceptionally painful, to witness such a lovely thing and yet know that it is intended for all those who have slept through the darkness, and are awoken by the light. I sat on the floor of my room, the music playing softly and I watched the light stretch out and touch everything.

I wanted to cry.

I knew by now that something inside of me was deeply broken and I was not healing it, I was feeding it. Something dark and sick, initiated by Royce King, was starting to take over and I couldn't stop it.

I wanted Edward. Not even to kiss at this point, just to have him near me. I hated myself more violently than I had ever done before and could no longer keep up with tumult of emotions that ripped through me. I despised what I had become, the part of me that still yearned for something good and clean was disgusted with the other half - the other half that wanted him to kiss me hard, not soft. The other half that wouldn't let me….

But no, that was my decision. Even though it was failing.

God I wished I could cry.

I remembered crying; the pain, the release, the good night sleep afterwards.

Instead I sat there, watching the sunrise, alone and broken. I listened to the song he had been playing and I allowed myself to think it once, just once while he was no-where around to hear it.

'_I__'__m in love with you.__'_

_A/N - I liked this chapter, mmmmm...angsty. Anyways my darlings, really hope you lked it - would love a review, as always and thanks so much to everyone for your support so far. You're all beautiful. _


	9. Chapter 9: The Drumming of the Spiders

**-Chapter Nine: The Drumming of the Spiders-**

Four things in my life have jarred, shocked and split me wide open. Four times when I had the world taken from me and changed by someone else.

The first was when I was five and I watched my Grandmother die. It was a boiling hot day at a garden party and she just collapsed, dead on the ground.

The second was when I was nine, and my best friend Steven Woolfe, kissed me on the mouth very briefly, before running away and crying.

The third was when Carlisle made me immortal.

The fourth was Rosalie Hale.

And there she sat, reading a book with her legs curled beneath her. Her hair swept aside casually so as not to interfere with 'The Portrait of Dorian Grey'. I sat on the floor, my back against a beautiful scarlet, velvet chez lounge, not even bothering to pretend to read. I was simply content to stare at her, even though we both knew it was potentially dangerous.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her delicious mouth, although she continued to read, the words of the book echoing in her head as her mental voice curled around them. It fascinated me, although I had read the book before (and thought it somewhat akin to backstroking through treacle) it was hearing her voice read the words, feel the emotions - that made it fascinating.

She broke the reading pattern, her thoughts shifted, forming solid words.

'_And just what will you say to Esme,__'_she thought. _'__When she asks why her new chez lounge has been reduced to splinters, all because you would not stop staring at me?__'_

I smiled, despite my own earlier insistences that we keep it utterly secret - I was beginning to lose willpower on that front. I was starting to not care if we were found out. I was starting to like the idea of our darkness being brought out into the light, made known to our family.

"Splinters?" I asked quietly. She smiled fully.

'_When I throw you down upon it, love.__'_

The endearment was intended to provoke me, as always. I usually hated them, especially from her but for some reason when she called me that, I warmed to it. She turned the page, taking a mere twenty seconds to fully read the other two pages.

Now I was talkative, but we couldn't really speak about anything meaningful - even thought Carlisle and Esme were hunting. Talking about issues, feelings or anything else was a bad idea. Yet I wanted to speak with her, have her banter with me.

"Do you miss it?" I asked. She didn't even look up at me, nor did she enquire as to what I meant. This too was utterly compelling. I had no idea how she always knew what I meant, I knew that she could not read my mind, but somehow she always knew.

"Yes. Especially the dancing."

I smiled helplessly, imagining her dancing, seeing in my mind's eye her body flowing to the music, in a dress and high heels….her hair whirling around as I spun her. "But not the people?" Her expression turned softly kind, unnatural for Rose.

"No. In people, I believe I lack nothing nor could wish for better," she said fluidly. "But I do miss dancing."

I watched her wistful face, and the urge to give her whatever she wanted took over again. I was ridiculously desperate to make her happy. "So dance with me."

Too far. She looked up from her book, her thoughts spiking with emotions, most of which stemmed from annoyance. "Edward," she said calmly. "No."

"Why not?"

'…_too close, stupid, stupid, stupid__…__too close and too deep in now, idiot Rosalie, complete idiot__…__know he can hear__…__.shut up and SMILE!__'_

"Because, my darling," she said with an very convincing smile. "It was part of my old life, this new one does not encompass dancing."

"But," I went on, pretending I had not heard her thoughts. "I love dancing."

She went back to her book. "I'll dance with you at your wedding."

It almost came stumbling out of my mouth, but sense and reasoning told me - just in time - that she meant _my_ wedding to some other girl, not _her_.

"And I at yours." Pathetic. God how I wished we could break through the veneer of politeness and playfulness - or if not, then let me fall deaf to her thoughts. Nothing was said for a small while. I listened to the sounds of the world, most prominently, sounds from the attic above us. Several spiders were scuttling about, their many legs sounded more like rhythmic drumming to me. I was certain Rosalie could hear them, but she was sternly reading her book now, forcing her mind not to wander. The drumming grew louder, increasing in tempo and volume - I tried to imagine what they were doing, some strange spider ritual perhaps, but my mind was fixed upon her. It came out before I could do anything about it.

"I love you, Rose."

Her mind jarred, like a train wreck in silence. It was several seconds, an eternity to us, before she even moved. Then her mind began to function again.

"And I love you, Edward," she said calmly. "As I love Esme and Carlisle."

"Good," I said, looking away so she would not see the disappointment. "That's good."

'_NEVER say that again.__'_

I flinched away from it, my eyes closed. "Why?" I asked, wading into dangerous waters, not caring that she would probably rip my head off.

She snapped the book shut, throwing it aside and was suddenly on the floor in front of me. I thought for a moment that she was going to seriously injure me, but instead she took my hands and held them in her own. Her eyes locked onto mine intently, her beautiful, lovely eyes.

"Look at me, Edward. Look at me and listen to what I say. _This_ is not going to result in marriage and dancing, it will not be a shiny happily ever after. What we feel for one another…it will pass. It is wrong not to indulge, of course we should be with one another but if you make the attachment….if you make this about love, then I'll never recover."

I was lost, confused and breaking apart.

"You're crazy."

"No, I'm perfectly sane. I will not be broken apart by another man, I cannot allow it. Royce broke me in every way it is possible to be broken. I loved him, and he killed me. He…did that to me and then he killed me, after letting all his friends use me too. I can kiss you, I can be with you…I can feel what I feel for you but that is as far as this runs."

"I am NOT Royce King!" I shouted recklessly, the anger dispelling all cautiousness. "And you know I would never hurt you!"

She shook her head. "Not intentionally, but this," she put my hand to her cold, un-beating heart. "Can still be broken. If I let myself….if we….it will destroy me. Let us be realistic here - the feelings we have are dark, animalistic ones. We are dark creatures, we feed from the living to sustain our own dead bodies. A spade is a spade and a monster is a monster, no matter how beautiful or well spoken."

"You're wrong," I insisted, even though she was echoing many of my own thoughts on this multifarious issue.

She was unmoved. "You know it's true. Perhaps there is love out there, even for us - but not with one another. I can be with you, but not if I love you."

I smiled bitterly. "Brother by day, lover by night - is that what I am to you?"

"No, you are already more than you should be."

I heard my own voice crack. "I'm in lov-"

She kissed me, cutting off my declaration and when I tried to push her way - she held me in place and kissed me harder. "Ssshhh," she whispered against my mouth. I knew then that something was seriously wrong with her, and even more so - with me. I should have ended it there.

But of course, I didn't.

* * *

Another month passed in bright painful flashes, the time split between when I could be with Rosalie and when I had to pretend I didn't want to. I was starting to feel like a schizophrenic; my split personality activated by the time I could be with her.

The secrecy of it was starting to hurt me, in almost physical ways. I was losing all sense of right and wrong, and unlike before - it was a welcome sensation. Being with her, kissing her - was incredibly confusing, having a voice in my head screaming that it was wrong made it a lot worse. The strange, static silence made everything easier, in a dangerous sort of way.

It had been four months now since this insanity had begun and while I acknowledged that it was indeed madness, I couldn't help but feel the way I did.

Being with her was heavenly, in a traumatic, mind shattering sort of way. She was pure silken fire, passion personified. It wasn't even her beauty - it really was _her_. How had there been a time when her arrogance and selfishness were vices? Had I really ever looked at her and thought her shallow? I was desperately falling in love with her, and despite her cold, casual attitude - I knew on some small level that she felt the same as I did. Warmth where there should have been cold, familiarity where there should be mystery.

It was March now, the wind was fresh and bitter to my taste as I lay on the roof of our house looking at the endless plethora of stars, some bright, others faded dots of dying light.

I waited for her to come, the roof was one of the very few places we could be together when Esme and Carlisle were inside the house. Beneath my skin I could feel the rough edges of the slate, the occasional soft patch of moss. Everything was wonderfully cold.

I could smell her scent on the air as she approached, climbing up the side of the house and onto the roof, three storeys above the ground.

"Good evening Mr Cullen," she breathed.

I lay perfectly still, not even moving except to smile.

"Bon soir, Princesse," I replied, my voice just as soft as hers. She lay down next to me, our bodies inches away. For a few minutes we were perfectly silent, looking up at the sky as countless lovers had done before us. I knew what she was thinking before she thought it.

"Yes," I answered uneasily.

She turned to face me, her expression curious. "But you believe we are damned?"

"I do."

"Then how can you believe in God? No God would condemn Carlisle."

I sighed, this topic was not one I had ever discussed with Rosalie, but I knew she had spoken to Carlisle in the subject. He and I talked for days on end of this, resolving nothing, but at least widening perspective a little more each time.

"We are damned by our very nature."

She propped her head up on her elbow, her hair falling down one side of her neck and shoulder. "Like demons?" She was smiling, mocking me with her certainty.

"Perhaps," I answered, moving to face her as well. "They are soulless, as are we." She nodded once and I caught a glimpse of a conversation she had with Carlisle…_'__the very bones of a soul__…__..__'_

"But the things we love….care for, surely that is proof enough?"

"Do we even really love?" I asked grimly, feeling the bleakness of my own reflections creep into my words. "Maybe we feel only the echo of love, what it might have been had we a soul."

"But I still _feel_ so much of everything," she went on, her voice oddly childlike, her eyes watching me intently. "I still feel emotions, but stronger than when I was…alive. What can that pertain to, if not substantiation of the soul?"

"That we are animals, perhaps."

"An ape playing Debussy?" she sneered playfully.

"Higher in the evolutionary chain perhaps, but animals nonetheless."

She narrowed her eyes a little, weighing all my reactions in her head, I listened to her conclusions with bemusement.

"Childish, Rose," I chided kindly, unable to be cruel to her when she was like this.

She pouted a little, in a terribly adorable way. "Why is it childish?"

I tried to think of how to phrase it, but there was no gentle way. "You killed men, you took pleasure in it. Angels, really?"

"The Wrath of an Angel," she stated firmly. "Both terrible and beautiful creatures."

"Such prose."

"Do you really believe that we will burn in hell, then?"

I could not say it out-loud, not as I could to Carlisle, who would reassure me in that fatherly way that I craved. I could not look into her painfully beautiful eyes and tell her that, yes - I did believe we would all burn in hell. So I did the only thing that I could.

I smiled and I kissed her.

* * *

Mornings were the strangest part of the day. It took me many years to adjust to the lack of sleep, even worse was the absence of desire to sleep. I was always awake, always alert - eternity held strong meaning in everything. When morning came, the sun rise was a bittersweet torrent of sadness and euphoria. Two parts of me equally rejoiced and wept at the thought of immortality. The sunrise was an endless reminder that I would never, ever sleep.

Unless of course, the day came when I would be killed. I had heard stories of other, more ferocious vampires. Carlisle told me of the Volturi and how they dealt with others of our kind, reckless ones who threatened the veil of secrecy. I knew that we could be killed, I knew the particulars of what it would take and I wondered then, what would happen next.

Damnation. Hell. Demons, torture, fire and agony. Forever.

Eternity, no matter what. I would exist, in one form or another, forever. Whether it be the cold, beautiful creature that I was now, or a victim; ripped apart and sewn back together endlessly for as long as time spanned - I was eternal, and the sunrise told me so every day.

I thought then, as she lay together, our arms wrapped around one another on the roof - as the sun crept over our bodies, of my soul. I watched her watch me, this would have been a time - were we mortal - when we would have slept, but instead we looked at one another for hours, drinking in every facet and feature of our faces, expressions, eyes. I counted how many times she blinked, and listened to the sound her eyelashes made as they moved. I could _feel_ her looking into my eyes, her thoughts about them as her arms tightened around me, and she pulled me closer - not to kiss, but just to be exactly that; closer. When she smiled, she sighed a little and the sound was devastatingly transcendent to me. I knew at this point, how hopelessly in love with her I was. It was bordering on dangerous, the sheer velocity and depth of what I felt for her. The love, adoration, protectiveness. If she was trying to stay cold and detached, I wasn't even bothering.

The tangibility of my feelings hit me hard, as it had done many times before, and I was glad I didn't have to breathe. In those small moments, I was certain that she was right; we were not soulless. Maybe we were even angels. Who knew? Were there other people in the world to tell us? Were we not the only two?

Rosalie wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned in so the tips of our noses were touching. She closed her eyes. "What do you miss?"

I blinked, caught slightly off guard. I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I had not had time to read hers. "Sorry?"

She gently nuzzled her nose to mine, a beautifully warm Eskimo kiss. "What do you miss of mortal life?"

"Oh," I said, and tried to think of life before Rosalie, of life before Carlisle and the Spanish Influenza. "I miss the sun, I miss children. I loved playing with children."

'…_like me, the children I can never have, the baby I dreamed of with my golden hair will never__…_'

"I'm sorry," I said automatically. "I did not mean to…"

"Shhh," she whispered gently. "It's alright. Tell me more of what you miss."

I didn't want to go on, I could feel the bittersweet pain she felt as I spoke, but she urged me on anyway. "I miss trivialities, like worrying over the smallest little things. I miss being wrapped up in worries and concerns like money or war. I miss the pressure to live and fit everything in, because one day I would wither and die. I miss the strange little upsets and confusions."

"You miss being human."

I smiled and kissed her once. "Yes. There is no demand in this life now. I can do anything, whenever I want and there is no pressure. No urgency."

"I understand. I miss small things too. I cannot ever understand how I would spend days worrying over a social faux pas I made, or a dress hat was out of stock. I remember crying for nights when our cat ran away, and then crying for a whole month when Sarah Finch said I was stupid in front of our class. I miss the…as you said, triviality. The smallness."

"And now there is just eternity. No rush, no hurry. Nothing" I couldn't suppress the sadness in my voice, nor in my eyes even though I closed them.

She put her hand on my face, stroking back my hair. "There is you," she whispered. "There is _you_."

I kissed her then, opening my eyes so I could look at her. Kissing her was incredible - I couldn't even form thoughts, all I could do was feel my bones melt as she pulled me closer, kissing me deeper. I was spinning, drowning, losing myself and I couldn't care less about the outside world. She was the world, my world - my everything and what did anything else matter.

She pushed me away suddenly, and I was afraid there was yet another complicated issue involving boundaries. "What?" I gasped, dizzily.

"Sshhh!" she said sharply, we both froze. "Did you hear that?"

Of course I hadn't heard it. I wouldn't have heard an asteroid hitting the planet, I was so wrapped up in her. "No. What was…"

She put her hand over my mouth, her eyes alert and wary. "Beneath us," she breathed. "There was a noise."

I removed her hand. "Spiders," I whispered back. "I heard them the other day."

But she shook her head. "No. It's not spiders."

"Then what is it?"

"I think..." she whispered, her eyes met with mine and she didn't need to finish.

I already knew. "Carlisle and Esme."

* * *

_A/N - Please let me just thank you all so much for reviewing and for your support thus far. It means so much to me, you're all gorgeous wonderful people. This chapter was lovely to write, I loved it and I really hope you all liked it, sorry for the delay - these characters are SO stubborn! Anyway, please continue to review, you're all such darlings. The next chapter has some interesting flashbacks, a confrontation involving a discovery and much more. Thanks! x x x x x x x_

* * *


	10. Chapter 10: Echoes of Darkness

**-Chapter Ten: Echoes of Darkness-**

It hit me hard, right in the solar plexus - the gravity of everything, and I mean everything. His glazed eyes focusing again, meeting mine with those barely detectable trace of panic - it cast everything in bright, harsh light.

It was not a secret any longer, they knew. They knew what we had been doing, what I had done, so soon after what Royce had done to me…Oh God! The shame rose up like nausea, sickly and cold. While it had been a secret, it was a wonderful stabiliser, a steady hand during rough turbulence. Now the stability, reassurance and solace was torn apart, they _knew_. I felt my skin crawl, the air was suddenly bitingly cold and I wanted, powerfully, to leave before I had to meet Carlisle's eyes, pitying me for what I was.

"Stop it, Rose!" Edward snapped, yanking me from my whirling despair. "Don't think like that! We've done nothing wrong!"

I wanted to believe him, God I wanted to accept that and take his hand so he could lead me to our family and announce that it was happy news; that we were in love and it was wonderful and pure, powerful and good. That we were soul mates, that we were happy.

_Happy. _

The word sounded foreign. Happiness was for ignorant children who believed in fairies, who knew nothing of the horrifying depths that evil reached; who knew nothing of the cruelties men were capable of, and the catastrophic mistakes all people could make. Happiness belonged to humans, surely. Not us. I was starting to see Edward's point; we were damned, damned by our nature as he had said, because in truth we were little more than beautiful demons, haunted by our pasts and driven by our obsessions.

"I can't do this!" I managed to breathe. "I can't…this is too much I…."

He took my hand and kissed it fiercely. "Listen to me, Rose," he whispered. "Listen and stop thinking what you're thinking. I don't care about what we've done, if it's wrong or not. I don't care what they'll think of us."

He was lying. Carlisle's opinion was second to none in his eyes. "I'm not lying," he counteracted gently. "I refuse to see that we have done anything wrong."

I wished I was as blind as he was, but to some extent his blindness had to be remedied. "We are not married," I stated bluntly. He smiled, unfazed by that.

"So marry me."

The full weight of that actually _hurt_. The words I wanted to hear at the wrong time, in the wrong life. How could he do this to me? Didn't he understand?

"Understand what?" he asked gently, tilting my chin to make me look at him.

"We deceived them," I reeled off, to detract. "We lied to them."

His golden warm eyes were steady. "I. Don't. Care."

"BUT DON'T YOU SEE THAT IT'S WRONG?"

"All that I see is you have somehow become me in the last month. I believe it was I who said this, to you!"

"When it was a secret, yes of course! But it is no longer a secret, is it? They know! They _know_, Edward!"

"And why does that mean this is suddenly wrong?"

"Because I'm ashamed!"

Oh God, it had come out wrong. He blinked, hurt by my words. I hadn't meant it like that, please let him read my mind and see how I meant it!

A few aching seconds passed until he looked away. "I know you did not mean to say it thusly, I know you did not mean you are ashamed of me."

Which meant he knew…

"But I see now why you think it must be a secret." He shook his head. "Oh Rose, I don't even know what to say to something as…detrimental as that. You are determined to think the absolute worst of yourself. A paradoxical balance; exterior beauty to compensate for the interior disgrace and iniquity."

He pulled me to him and held me, I hugged him back, pulling so tightly that we could have broken ribs had we not a frame of stone. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." He held me tighter.

"Don't. _None_ of this is your fault."

"But it is," I went on. "It is all my fault. I didn't have to dress that way, I didn't have to walk home, I should have known. I shouldn't have been so….alluring, it was all my fault and now this. I just…I wanted to feel again…I never…"

"Don't apologise," he said sternly. "I understand. I wish I didn't, but I do."

And he did, it was as simple as that. For all the people that would come and go in the world, he knew me inside and out. He knew everything about me, and he wasn't revolted. He was here.

I drew back from the embrace and kissed him, for once softly. Against his lips, I murmured incoherent words. I was thankful they were incoherent, as was my mind - I hoped.

I hoped he could not see, as we kissed, that this would probably be the last time it ever happened.

* * *

It was one of the most difficult things I had ever done, lying to them. Despite Edward's insistence that we were soulless beings, devoid of feeling or redemption; I felt every single nuance of guilt, every trace of fiery emotion that had no name because it was too complex.

Mostly, I could feel what I had sworn would never happen again.

I could feel my heart breaking.

We, all four of us, stood in the room filled with light. One in each corner, Edward leaned against the wall, his head down while Carlisle looked back and forth from the both of us. Esme smiled lovingly, unable to hide the slight worry lurking behind her eyes.

"You understand, of course," Carlisle spoke gently. "That we simply wish to know why you kept it secret."

_It. It. _I had never been so grateful I could not blush. I was no prude, nor was I squeamish about the matter to which we all knew Carlisle was referring, but that did not mean I was not embarrassed that he knew. The very fact that he knew was the entire problem, of course. _It_ was not a secret anymore.

Now it had to stop, and I already knew I would have to be the one to do it. Edward was looking down, I knew he didn't want to face Carlisle, maybe he didn't want to look at me. Maybe he hated me and was ashamed of what he had done with me. I couldn't blame him if he was.

He glanced up sharply, a small frown between his eyes and shook his head minutely. I turned away, suddenly understanding his desire not to make eye contact. This must have been so much harder for him, having to hear the individual thoughts of everyone as well as dealing with his own feelings.

How on earth could he ever think we were soulless? Surely no human ever felt this much pain and anguish, confusion and passion?

"Why did you?" Esme asked, her velvet voice was kind and loving. "You know we do not object."

_Do not _object. Present tense. As if it was still ongoing. This would be much harder than I thought. I saw out of the corner of my eye, Edward's lips tighten to a thin line. I had never hated myself or his gift, more than I did now.

I would have to speak, for it was clear Edward couldn't.

"We did not tell you," I began, leaning away from my corner so we no longer represented the four corners of the earth. "Because we were unsure of it ourselves."

Esme looked confused. No doubt she was wondering how anyone could be uncertain of true love, assuming of course that nothing but the deepest love could induce anyone into making love. Carlisle, however, looked much less confused. Edward made a slightly disgusted sound and shook his head. Some interaction of thought had passed through them, displeasing Edward greatly.

"It was not Edward," I said at once. "It was me. I initiated it, out of vanity. He paid me no attention so I…I saw to it that he did."

Everyone was looking at me now, each with exactly the same expression.

"But that cannot be true, dear," Esme insisted, shaking her head.

"It is," I lied. "I have to be honest, because we are a family and I want us to be able to put this behind us. I used Edward and not only for my vanity. I used him to make sure I could still feel something resembling passion. To distract myself from the means of my death, the events before it and those that I executed after. This is all on me, it was my initiation. I made him feel guilty for being a gentleman. I made him question his own sense of right and wrong, so I could gain from it. We are not in love, nor will we ever be."

There was an actual, tangible pain ripping through me. An agony I could not even associate with the process of immortality. It was a freezing cold pain, grey and asphyxiating.

I let them all look at me; Esme with concern and sympathy, Carlisle with slight disbelief and love, Edward with cold, hurt eyes that spoke volumes of the betrayal and wounds I was inflicting.

Carlisle spoke first. "Rosalie, I find that very hard to believe."

"I know you think me incapable of such spite, but you see me through loving eyes. I am the culpable one, this is my doing. I feel intolerably guilty for doing it, but it is done now and I cannot undo it." My voice was going to crack soon, my knees would surely buckle. Could no one else hear the ringing sound that echoed in my ears?

Edward looked at Esme with raised eyebrows, surprise written all over him.

"Carlisle," she said with a meaningful look. "Perhaps we are overlooking a few things."

"Please do not assume that I am blaming anyone, especially not you, Rose," Carlisle said, looking at me. "There is no blame, no wrongdoing."

Edward and I locked eyes briefly, thinking the same thing. If there was no blame, then why the casual interrogation?

Carlisle sighed, looking down. "Rosalie, you have nothing to feel guilty for. _Nothing_."

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms. "I know."

"But do you? What happened with Royce King…"

"I will not be made to feel remorse for killing that piece of filth!"

"…no, you misunderstand. I do not refer to his death, which no-one regrets nor blames you for; I refer to what was done to you."

My blood, though unmoving and already cold, turned to ice water.

"Meaning?" I managed to grind out. Edward was watching me carefully, his posture had turned extremely protective.

"What he did to you, Rose," Carlisle ploughed on in a tight voice. "Was a terrible thing but I think you need to understand…"

"I do understand," I interrupted blindly. "I understand perfectly. Please, must we linger upon a subject so macabre?"

"I am not saying this to be cruel. I am pointing out that people who go through what you went through have experienced more repercussions than you might think." He paused, clearly wishing he didn't have to go on. When he resumed, his words were heavy and quiet. "There is nothing wrong with you, nor with any feelings you may have for…well…anyone."

"Please do not presuppose that I have taken leave of my senses," I snapped. "I am I well aware that there is nothing wrong with me. I am not the deranged lout who raped and beat his fiancé to death!"

Esme took a step towards me her hand outstretched, but perhaps she thought better of it, for she stepped back and withdrew her hand. Edward had his eyes closed, I could hear his teeth grind together, his jaw muscles working.

"No-one would ever suggest anything of the sort," Esme said soothingly. "But you do not have to darken such emotions to protect yourself from feeling genuine love."

It was too much. Too much to bear. I could see it all happening, all over again and I didn't know why. The bitter taste in my mouth, my own blood, no air because he kicked me in the stomach. I remembered worrying that I would not bear children…it was laughable now to think that I had such a concern at such a time. I could feel the street stones underneath me again, my breathy screams that were silenced by strong, large hands and then suddenly the night air on patches of bare skin and a pain I had never felt before, shooting through me like fire…

"Damn it, Rose!"

Edward's words brought me back to earth with an unpleasant 'snap!'. I reeled from the sudden, terrifyingly real reverie and wonderful vaguely if it was self inflicted. We were staring at each other, not a good idea in front of our family, and the intensity must have crackled in the air. He seemed in pain, his eyes searched mine and I wanted to be able to touch him, because I knew it would make me feel so much better. Just to be able to run my fingertips over his face, trail them down his cheek and to his lips, to be able to do that would be worth whatever would happen next.

"This is not helping her," Esme told Carlisle. "Confronting them like this. They have done nothing wrong."

Her husband nodded in agreement. "Of course they haven't. Right or wrong is not the issue here."

"Then what is?" Edward snapped. Carlisle glanced at him and the away again very quickly. Edward laughed bitterly. "Somewhat overbearing, do you not think?"

"Perhaps. But it's true, nonetheless. Rosalie, we are worried for you. Our concern does not stem from the relationship with Edward, it stems from the fact that you ashamed of it."

I felt like he had slapped me. "How dare you?"

"I do not mean that you are ashamed of Edward," he corrected himself carefully. "I mean that you think it is something to be ashamed of."

I couldn't even formulate a reply to that.

"Rose," Edward muttered. "You know it's true."

Another blow. How could he betray me like that?

My silence seemed to provoke Carlisle into speaking, and I dreaded it for I knew what he would say. He would explain the whole grim matter, in the manner that only doctors could.

"Rosalie," he said bluntly. Why did everyone insist on saying my name? It wasn't as if I could forget who I was. "Your fiancé did a terrible thing to you. I have treated women who have been subject to that and I can see in you, echoes of something I saw in them. Love is nothing to feel ashamed of. Being with that person is not wrong, nor is it unwholesome because of what you endured. I understand the automatic association you make between what they did and what you are doing with Edward, but there isn't one. By the same token, I also understand that you might want to be with Edward to _make_ you feel whole again. It works both ways unfortunately and is very complex. You are not tainted, you are not broken. You are perfectly, wonderfully whole and you have nothing to fear from love or any of it's associations."

I listened to his words, carefully spoken and full of love. I knew that everything he said was completely true.

But it changed nothing. I had to leave, leave the house, leave them.

Edward took a step forward. "Don't," he begged. "Don't leave."

I couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't look at his achingly lovely face. It was too much. Without another word, I turned and left and did not return for many months.

* * *

_A/N - Sorry for such a delay in updates, stupid block had me in it's throes. Anywho, hope you all enjoy this. Plenty of angst for all. More up ASAP, and Emmett arrives on the scene soon. x x x x x Review? Please? x x x x_


	11. Chapter 11: Reflections

**Chapter Eleven: Reflections**

_(This chapter is told from several point__'__s of view)_

**_-Rosalie-_**

Time to think. Time to reflect. All I had was time and nothing pleasant to fill to with. Time alone, time to myself, time to think. Wonderful, if you weren't in my head.

My time alone, in a part of the country I cared nothing for, moved like centuries. I bought myself a clock, bitterly fascinated by how slow time seemed to move. The ticking hands of the gold clock were like thunderclaps, each one spelling out the length of time I had spent and how much more I had left. Too much time. Too much time alone. Too much time to think. Too much time without him.

Granted the required distance from him, my mind could at least think freely. Even this, however, was a curse in disguise. It seemed that having him near was one of many benefits to my sanity. Knowing he could hear my thoughts, had curbed them. I had actually managed to convince myself that I wasn't desperately in love with him. Now, without him there to hear it - it was all my mind could process. The time, although sickeningly slow and long, meant nothing. The world around me, buzzing with fears about war in Germany, meant nothing. Everything was changing, the world was changing and I did not. I stayed exactly the same, frozen and perfect - beautiful and utterly broken.

I was useless, I could barely hunt. I let myself grow extremely hungry at times, viciously starving myself until it became so bad that I capitulated to my own self imposed starvation, and when I fed I hated myself that much more.

Every long, dull moment away from him caused me such agony I thought it might actually kill me. Was this how vampires could be destroyed? From the inside out? I could well imagine it. Sometimes I made it worse on purpose. Sometimes I walked down a crowded street at night, daring myself to kill an innocent and finally lose myself to the bloodlust. I dared myself to become a monster. I almost wanted it. If I was truly damned then what did anything matter? I could loose myself in the violence and bloodshed and forget about him instead of spending endless moments, hours and days wandering around the wilderness, thinking of each time I was with him and what I could have done different to make it better. To make it so I hadn't left. To make it so that I was with him now.

It had been 1935 for a few cold days now. I heard gossiping women speak of fearful rumours coming from Europe, but they sounded more excited that afraid. They were certain that nothing from Europe could ever touch them here. They drank their tea and moved on. I watched them from the shadows with their children and prams and it wrenched my heart. Those brief moments of bittersweet torture, watching the chubby little babies laughing and playing, were often made even worse by imagining children of my own, with Edward's hair and smile, my eyes and nose. I had to turn away then, the longing for things I could never have made me want to rip out my own heart.

I was a wreckage, shattered pieces of a previously whole object

I began to try not to think of him, to let him go. It was almost impossible. Nothing helped. Music was nothing but an agonising reminder of his fingers sweeping along the piano. I disliked the new music beginning to float around the country and, even though I was well aware I had only been immortal for barely a year and a half, I knew I preferred my own, classical music.

Some days I actually managed to do it - not think of him. I realised that on those days, other thoughts were busily plaguing me. It seemed obvious, but I realised then I needed distraction to not think of him.

But what could ever be distraction enough, that I could let go of Edward Cullen?

*

**_-Edward-_**

It was exactly what I wanted and yet, it was ripping me apart.

I had wanted her gone. I had wanted an answer to this insanity and here it was - she had left, left my family as we had been before. I had my solitude, my privacy, my sanity even; but I hated every second of it. Each iota of time that passed without her was grey and lifeless, full of wrongness and cold.

We were all feeling it, the loss of her presence, but I was certain none of them were feeling it like I was. I missed her so much it hurt, I wanted to see her so much that I could feel myself thinking up frighteningly realistic reasons to leave and track her down. Track her down, make her see sense, make her look at me and then kiss her. Make her stay with me because she had somehow become something I couldn't live without.

If I had a soul, it was torn in half and the other half was with her.

I couldn't play the piano, I listened to the wind swaying the trees instead. I talked to Carlisle but didn't really hear what he said to me. I knew they both worried about her constantly. Sometimes I went to the roof and lay there alone, counting the stars and breathing in the night air just so I could taste every nuance of everything. There were places on the roof that still, very faintly, held her scent.

Everything seemed to go back to normal, but in reality we were just playing at it, waiting for her to come back which she surely must. If she didn't, then something had to happen - something had to change.

It had to change because I couldn't continue like this. Endless time passing without meaning, sunsets and sunrises coming and going without importance. Months melting into a whole new year and I cared for nothing, but the memory of how she had felt wrapped around me, the feel of her hair in my hands. Her eyes, God her eyes staring, searching mine….it was too much to be borne.

I had never been in love, and now it was killing me. As the months melted into a new year, my desperation solidified into resolution. I would not let this overcome me, no matter what the cost. I would fall out of love with her if it was the last thing I did.

*

**_-Carlisle-_**

Ageless. It was a strange paradox, to be what I was and look I the mirror, and see what I had been. No age anywhere, no signs of wisdom, no signs of the many years I had bore witness to. I was as I had always been, never outgrown my late twenties. Only my eyes revealed glimpses of the time I had lived through.

I rarely looked in mirrors. Seeing myself was not something I enjoyed, I looked too much like my father to take any pleasure in it. I did not even own a mirror, this one was Rosalie's and I was only staring into it because I was in her room.

Her room which she had not set foot in for months.

I breathed a sigh, her scent still clung to various materials; the curtains, a chair, the carpet. I missed her, I wished she would return so I could better phrase what I was sure was the reason she left - my stupid, ineloquent speech.

One thing I was thoroughly familiar with, was guilt. I felt guilt like nothing else in the world. Perhaps that was why I could suppress the hunger easier than the others - I compensated with guilt. There could be no other creature that absorbed, produced and lived with as much guilt as I did.

Now she was gone, Edward was devastated by it and we were all lost without her.

Outside it poured sheets of rain, the drops hitting the windows diagonally, creating a layer of white noise that ought to have been soothing.

I looked away from my reflection with disgust. How many more times would I do this? Create an immortal, save someone without asking if they wanted to be saved? Generate a whole new life, never stopping to think that it might be a life of hell? I was not God, nothing close. I had done this, made this terrible mess. I should have let her die, maybe even let them all die.

But how could I? I loved Edward as the son and brother I never had, Esme was my soul mate, the thing I loved more than the word is capable of expressing, and Rosalie…darling, stubborn Rosalie…who could ever let her die?

My selfishness had done this. Of that I was sure.

I swore to myself there and then, to never do such a thing again.

*

**_-Esme-_**

Our house, my family, the world - seemed to be breaking apart.

From the shadows we walked in, I heard whispers of war. I heard the small threads of fear tug at their voices, and then the scent on the wind confirming it.

Rosalie had gone, and my son could no longer function properly without her. It is strange indeed, considering his original reaction to her, that now without her, he is broken. Love has broken him apart, and I can do nothing for him, nor for my husband who feels all of the guilt, when none of it is his.

I watched my beautiful son read his book, politely trying to ignore my thoughts until they grew too painful for him, and he got up and left, kissing my cheek as he calmly fled. I knew where he wished he could go; to her. To the one he loved, despite what they had both said, I knew they were in love.

But perhaps, with what had happened to Rosalie, she couldn't bear it. Perhaps she couldn't bear to be loved, as Carlisle had more or less put it. Perhaps his touch was a reminder of the man who had violated her.

I suspected that she had made some sort of bargain with herself never to fall in love with anyone again, and upon having broken it spectacularly, the decision to leave had been the only viable one.

Now she had gone, and we were all lost.

I wished she would return, that we might be a family again. All I wanted was a family, to have my darling Carlisle, my lovely Edward and my beautiful Rosalie. It was all I had ever wanted; a family, children.

I remembered with bittersweet sadness, the small little baby I had once had inside of me. The way it had kicked against me from the inside. I cared nothing for the man who had left me pregnant and then fled, I cared nothing for what the world or my family thought of me - I had my little baby and that was all I wanted.

Of course, fate had other plans.

The journey downwards had seemed endless. Then there had been blackness, release and suddenly…pain.

After the pain had gone, seemingly lasting forever, there had been a man looking into my eyes. I fell in love that very moment.

I sighed. Why couldn't Edward have that? Why did the world always have to complicate matters so much?

It was deeply unfair for them both. So sad, such a waste.

I prayed then, even though it was seemingly hopeless, that they would one day find someone whom they truly love.

Although at the present moment, it seemed nothing less than impossible.

*****

**-March 10th 1935-**

**_-Rosalie-_**

Today a man spoke to me. I was walking down the main road at night, part of my little masochistic ritual and he just stopped dead in front of me and stared, open mouthed. He looked as if I had slapped him around the face for no reason.

"My God!" he gasped, raising a hand to his mouth. "Rosalie!"

I felt as if I was dreaming. Had I finally lost my mind completely? Had I managed to travel back in time? Was I so delirious that this was really him and I was just hallucinating another man's face in place of his own?

But from somewhere inside me, vague recognition crawled to the surface and I realised that I had known this man once, a few years ago.

God had it only been a few years?

I couldn't speak. Panic struck me right in the centre of my chest. I was so far from Rochester, how could this be happening?

The man was dressed well, better than he had been when I had last seen him. His black hair was slightly longer, it reminded me of him. He was gaping at me, half amazed, half confused.

"Robert?" I managed, my voice low and cracked from disuse.

He was Vera's cousin; much taller now, far more handsome than he had been when I had known him. I had been so out of touch with reality, that when it came crashing back - it almost hurt like a slap.

"My God, Rosalie! I can't believe you're here!" His face broke into a huge smile, his eyes melting into warmth. I was still frozen in shock, like an animal staring at a huntsman's gun. "What are the odds?"

'Smile! Smile now!' I told myself and forced my face into a surprised smile.

"Robert," I managed to make it sound more like a greeting. "What are the odds, indeed?"

He smiled at me, star-struck. "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years!"

"You're right, the last time I saw you was Vera's birthday party. How is she?" I dodged quickly.

He waved a hand dismissively, as if that wasn't important. "I haven't seen her since that day. Family dispute. I went south and I managed to start up my own little business there. I know timber isn't exactly an interesting subject to bring up at socials, but it pays the bills!" he said enthusiastically. I smiled with kind approval, relaxing a little. My smile dazzled him, he swallowed involuntarily and his eyes shone a little.

"Independence doesn't impress the blue bloods," I said charmingly. "But consider me very much so."

He smiled hopefully, gulping a little. "Rosalie, I have to say," he began with a nervous smile. "You're…well…..beautiful. I mean, you were always lovely but now…..you look like an angel."

I smiled at his generous, if slightly ineloquent phrasing. From behind a breeze blew his scent to me and every single nerve in my body woke up, and the thirst kicked in powerfully. I closed my eyes, trying to fight it but it was no use - I had to step backwards, away from the tormenting lure.

He seemed confused, and I wrapped my arms around myself, pretending to be cold in lieu of an explanation. He noted my apparel, deeply unsuited for the icy cold weather. I didn't ever have a jacket or a scarf.

"You must be freezing!" he exclaimed, shrugging off his brown coat and handing it to me. His smell clung to it, the hunger was agonising. I was to lose myself in the warm, delicious taste of his blood. I had never tasted human blood, but the primitive part of me already knew that it would be divine. I looked at Robert's face, kind and concerned for my well being - innocent. I didn't want his blood to be the first that I drank, I didn't want to kill him.

"Actually," I managed, trying not to breathe. "I ought to be going."

"But it's late," he argued. "You should not walk the streets alone."

Oh the irony of that.

"I live very close by," I lied, picturing the empty house where I lived on the outskirts of the town. "My husband is only around the corner. He'll walk me home."

He looked a little disappointed. "Your husband?"

It was out of my mouth before I even had time to stop it. "Edward Cullen."

He shrugged politely, he didn't know who I was referring to. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Are you sure you can get home alright?"

"Absolutely." I was backing away, terrified that at any moment I would lose control, and tear into him.

"Well then, goodbye," he offered, bemusedly. "It was lovely seeing you."

"And you. Goodbye."

I turned and walked away, fast. I actually felt sorry for the animals in the forest that night. It would take something substantial to slake my thirst that night and I was in no mood for kindness.

*****

**_-Edward-_**

My decision to fall out of love with her sounded very simple at the time. Simple, clean cut and even easy. To stop loving her, move on from this insanity and get on with my immortal life - it sounded wonderful.

But in reality, it wasn't.

The truth was that I didn't want to stop loving her. Even though it was excruciatingly painful, I never wanted it to stop somehow.

I tried, I spent every waking moment of my time, consciously trying to hate her in a detached way. I tried valiantly to think of why I should hate her, why I should feel nothing for her - but it was meaningless lies. I knew the truth, and it was destroying me, piece by piece.

For all her faults, for all my desperate attempts at revulsion - she was Rosalie, my Rose and I loved her, even though I could feel what it was doing to me.

Surely it shouldn't be like this? Love was supposed to be something wonderful and divine, amazingly beautiful and exquisite. Not this ripping, agonising pain that tore through me every second of every day and night.

For the first time, I did not miss dreaming. I knew that were I able to sleep, she would plague my subconscious.

But I missed her, I missed her so much that I began to actually hate myself for it. I was never exactly the life and soul of the party, excusing the pun - there had always been some measure of angst and broodiness in who I was - a duality of my existence which I pondered upon until my brain ached. This, on the other hand, was revolting. I had become a ghost, miserable and unable to smile. I was lost, utterly broken and pathetic beyond even my ability to sympathise.

Trying to fall out of love with her was the only choice. What else could I do? Spend the next eternity pining for her, until I broke and finally went to find her and beg her to love me as I loved her?

Not a possibility.

As these thoughts began to solidify, my self hatred turned colder. What I was now, this pathetic echo of a man, was her doing. Loving her had destroyed me.

The cold resolution began to distil, resentment turned outwards and I promised myself that I would never fall in love with anyone ever again.

*****

_A/N - This took forever and I am so sorry my loves. I decided to do multiple POVs, thought it would be interesting to see many levels of angst instead of just two. I also concede that absolutely nothing important happened in this chapter, but it was mainly filler for the next which WILL be up soon, cos I'm looking forward to writing it. Looking forward to reviews, lol - x x x x _


	12. Chapter 12: Damaged

**-Chapter Twelve: Damaged-**

**-Rosalie-**

My back against the wall, my arms resting on my knees and blood all over my hands – I felt it before I sensed it and suddenly, I was awake. It happened so fast, like a drop from a great height. Once started, unstoppable. I tried to decide what to do – but what could I do? What was a little more dignity and pride, given the weakness I could indulge in? What did strength matter? What did any of it matter, when I could feel his approach, taste his scent and finally – hear his beautiful, swift footsteps?

He opened the door effortlessly, and I heard his shoes echo along the rotting floorboards of the old house I inhabited, alone. I didn't care how he had found me, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had.

I stood up, the darkness outside penetrated by thin beams of moonlight. I felt blood drying on my cheek, tightening the skin and pinching painlessly.

"Rosalie."

He spoke softly, but I could hear the note of something seriously wrong in his voice. I swallowed, waiting to see him come through the door into the bare, barren room I was in. It was a long wait, but finally he did walk through the door, and when I saw him I actually had to clamp my mouth down to stop from gasping. I had forgotten how beautiful he was.

He was as he always had been; all beauty and devastating splendour. His eyes locked with mine, his hair was windswept; the same beautiful dark copper. His skin was as pale as mine; his eyes were a burnt gold colour. They scorched with intensity.

I tried to think of what to say, was there something clever I could say to him? But as my mind searched for it, I remembered that I didn't need to say anything at all. He could hear it all nonetheless.

"Rosalie," he said again, tighter this time. "You have to come home."

I blinked, trying to sense the meaning of his words. He shook his head at me, I had yet to speak but it didn't seem to be an issue. In fact, he seemed relieved that I wasn't speaking.

"You have to come home, because you are family. Carlisle and Esme miss you terribly. We all do. You should come home."

I waited, but he didn't add anything so I had to ask. "Is that all?"

He looked away from me. "What did you expect?" There was a bite to his voice now. Anger, cold and icy, had found its way into his words.

He was right, of course – what did I expect? For him to track me down, tell me he still loved me and ask me to marry him? As he had before, when I had refused him? But I was extremely selfish, I always had been – and it was important that he knew now, that it was _exactly_ what I wanted. My months alone had showed me this, if nothing else. I was ready for it now, I wasn't broken anymore – not when I was with him.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut me out perhaps. "Stop it Rosalie!"

"Edward, I…"

"No! Listen to me!" he snapped, still averting my gaze. "You and I are _done_. We are finished. I will not allow myself to feel what you have, purposefully or not, made me to feel. Eternity is too long to exist in such a way. You should return, because we miss you – as family… and that is all you ever wanted _anyway_!" he spat.

It hurt to hear him speak like that, but at the same time – I knew he was right. I had hurt him, terribly, and for no reason. What had he done to deserve me and all the pain I had brought to his life? Nothing. He was finally being the strong one, putting a stop to the melancholy madness and doing the right thing.

But I was still breaking apart inside.

He seemed determined to ignore my thoughts. "So you will return, then?" he asked, almost coldly.

"Of course," I said with steely calm. My exterior did not have to reflect the turmoil within. "I am relieved to have dealt with this. I would not wish you to suffer, and you are right. Together, we seem to only create anguish."

He hadn't said that, but it would have been the next thing out of his mouth I was certain.

"Exactly. I admit that much of this is my fault…"

"None of this is your fault," I swore. "Nothing is your fault."

"Regardless, it is for the best that it ends."

He said it with such finality, that I did not doubt it. I looked at him, weighing him up as coldly as possibly. He didn't seem desperate, he didn't seem weak or flailing – he seemed far gone. I had pushed too far, and something had snapped.

Which was of course, the perfect time for me to say what I had never been able to say until that most imperfect moment.

"I love you."

It seemed to physically hurt him. He recoiled as if I had slapped him for no reason, displaying vulgarity during his very polite, stern reasoning.

"How dare you?"

"How dare I love you?"

"How dare you say that to me? Do you have any idea what I've been through without….while you gone?"

"No," I said bluntly. "And equally, you cannot know what I've been through without you."

"I have just stood here, after searching for you for three weeks, and told you that this is _over_ and now you tell me you love me?" His flawless voice cracked, I was doing it again. "You….can't….do that!"

"If I don't say it now, I'll be forever thinking it and how can I hide my thoughts from you? It is best that I say it and you understand. Just because I love you, doesn't mean we have to be together. As you said, we are family and shall always remain so. I will return with you to Carlisle and Esme, and we shall never speak of it again."

I could see now that he hated me- although it wasn't quite as much as I hated myself. It was drawn all over him, coming off him in painful waves and I also knew that it was my doing. He would always hate me for putting him through whatever he endured during the months I was gone. Him coming here was not a weakening of resolve, but a strengthening of it. He was proving how much he didn't care – effectively showing me that he didn't care enough that he could be around me, even ask me to return.

If he heard any one of my thoughts, he didn't react to them whatsoever. He just glared at me with increasing calm, until I looked away first.

"Fine," he said. "Then you will come home?"

He must have already known I would. This strange, formal requesting of answers was clearly a precedent. He would stay out of my head as much as possibly – treating my like an acquaintance, nothing more. No familiarity, no insight, no caring. This was how it would be, and I knew I deserved it.

"Yes."

My answer seemed to soften him a little. "There will be no uneasiness, we are a family, Rosalie – I wish for us to be happy." The 'us' was obviously the four of us. I doubted he would ever refer to he and I as 'us' again, as long as we existed.

"You bear me no ill will, then?"

Of course he did, but he lied anyway. "None. We are equal, and afresh."

"Wonderful." It wasn't wonderful at all, but this loneliness was starting to kill me, and I so missed Carlisle and Esme. I could endure this strange coldness, couldn't I? We would be no different than we ever were, cold and polite – distance and indifference. It was as if the time since we first lived together had never happened.

I made myself believe that I could live with that, as I went home with him.

*****

**-Emmett-**

I looked at the last piece of withered, crimson and black meat, hanging alone and depressed on a hook and sighed. The meat was salted, but it had done no good to preserve it, and we had been running out for days now. The meat house was damp and old dried blood on the floor, drips of old blood from previous pieces, was transforming into a strange sort of slime. I knew this would not suffice at all.

"Emmett!"

I looked up as my Mother called me from the house. "Coming!" I replied, and left the rotting, shrivelled side of meat alone on its hook.

My mother was on the porch, still slightly lopsided as it was falling into disrepair. Behind her, two of my eight sisters were peering over her shoulder hopefully. I shook my head grimly.

"Well?" my Mother asked, ignoring the obvious gloom on my face.

"I'm gonna have to go hunting, Ma," I explained. "Nothin' in there but a wrinkled bit of skin." Both my younger sisters looked disappointed, another one appeared behind them, peering around our mother's dirty old apron.

"But honey, it's too dangerous. What with all the bear attacks lately," Ma pointed out, a worried look all over her face. "You should wait for your Father to come home."

"That could be days." It was true; Pa had been gone for two months now. Who knew when he was coming back? His brother had been very ill this last year, and we were told he was dying. Upon learning this, Pa had gone to be with him while he died. God forgive me saying it, but his brother sure was taking his sweet time. The longer Pa was away, the harder things were. Nine children, a large house, no money and a seriously cold winter meant hard times for our family. I was the eldest, and it obviously fell to me to go hunting. "We need food now."

Ma gave me a meaningful look and wrung her hands together. "Caroline Heartgate said she'd be happy to give us some salted pork and bread for an old ring I've got."

I glanced down at her wedding ring, as she held it tightly between her thumb and forefinger.

"No, Ma!" I said sternly. "It's only temporary. If I can get us some meat to last us 'til Pa gets back, then we'll be fine!"

I could see her resolve weakening. We needed the meat, and she knew I was pretty good with the rifle. Behind her, another of my sisters appeared, the eldest girl Sarah looked at us with a calming smile.

"Em's right, Ma," she piped up. "I'm sure he's not gonna go wand'rin too deep. He'll stay on the outskirts; find us some deer or maybe a few tasty rabbits. How's about that girls?" she asked, turning around to the other three girls that were extremely well hidden behind the door. "Feel like rabbit stew?"

The girls cheered for the idea of rabbit stew and I knew I had won. I also knew I wasn't going to be hunting for rabbits. All bone and skin. I knew the forest well, I could go deep. Find us a boar or a stag – something big enough that we wouldn't have to worry about meat until Pa got back.

"See?" I said softly to Ma. She nodded wearily, resigned to my leaving. We all went inside, six of the eight sisters crowding around me, requesting that I not kill any of the bunnies, only the old rabbits. Sarah held the latest addition to our family, baby June, in her arms and winked reassuringly at me. Ma was packing me up a very sparse lunch, despite my protests and lies that I could eat berries and mushrooms on the way. A very hard crust of bread and a browning quarter of an apple, she put it in my leather pouch and kissed me on the cheek, giving me a worried once over before busying herself with the kitchen, unnecessarily.

So, gun in hand, I waved cheerily goodbye to my family, kissing all my little sisters on the cheek before I left, promising to leave the bunnies alone, promising my mother I would stay away from the centre, and silently promising Sarah that we would have plenty to eat when I returned.

*

By the time I got to Claw Creek, I was starving. I ate the bread, careful not to chip my teeth, and then devoured the piece of apple. Claw Creek was on the outskirts of the forest. I was still reasonably safe at this point, but not near to where I needed to be if I wanted my family to eat anything besides slivers of rabbit hide. I drank the water with cupped hands, and splashed some on my face. It would be noon soon enough and I had to get a move on. The forest centre was a good three hours in and I needed to get back before dark. I didn't want to have to sleep rough, not in the centre. Only a fortnight ago, young Billy Sanderson was mauled to death by a grisly. His parents and brothers had tried to hunt down the bear, but it was still around. Everyone knew the risks of heading into the centre, but not everyone was as hungry as my family was.

So I trudged north, heading further and further away from safety, with the idea of seeing my family's faces when I brought home a side of boar.

Three hours or so passed, and I began to feel nervous. I had heard a few sounds, bear moans and growls, but they echoed enough that I knew they were far away. If I stayed quiet, I would surely be safe.

I gripped the rifle tighter, and began to hunt.

*

**-Edward-**

I watched her endure all the hugs and kisses from Esme, then as she looked fully at Carlisle, before they hugged tightly. I stood, arms crossed and distant from them as I had been when she had first joined our family.

For the best. For the best. For the best.

That was my mantra. I decided that I would just repeat that over and over again until it was no longer necessary.

"….lovely to have you back again," Esme was gushing, as they hugged again. I could feel and hear all their thoughts, but I tried not to acknowledge them. It was difficult, but I was learning to somehow tune it out, ignore it as if background noise. I focused instead on what they were actually saying, the safe things they said – not the dangerous things they thought. "We have all missed you terribly!"

They both knew to say nothing of what had happened in her absence. In the end, I had agreed to find her and bring her back on the condition that they pretend that nothing had ever happened between us. This, I promised them, was entirely for her sake – not mine, but that was a lie. It was for my sake, my soul, my very sanity.

And so she was back, and things would return to some semblance of normality. We would both recover, we would move on – we would know a little peace at last.

She turned and looked at me, agonisingly exquisite, and I suddenly doubted myself again. This would be much harder than I thought. I could be strong in my head, when I was alone – but to see her look at me like that, I was almost undone. I could feel myself wanting to fall into her, to drown in her kiss, in her scent…her hair….

"It is wonderful to be back," she said, to all of us. She was at least following the stupid rules I had laid out. We were being polite, careful – she wasn't excluding me. She was acting as if we were only brother and sister. "The new house is beautiful."

It was indeed. We had moved again, the old house too full of memories to linger. The new manor was situated on the edge of the forest, again – this time in a southern area. It was a particularly quiet town; they seemed content to leave us well alone, always a bonus for us. Carlisle said we could not have a house that was too grand; it was unfair to the surrounding community who were suffering from a harsh winter. The house was smaller than what we were used to and a little less grand but it was still beautiful. Esme had seen to that.

"It is now you're home," Esme cooed, smoothing her hair back behind her ears with tender fondness. "But my darling, look at your eyes! You are famished."

She did. It was obvious that she hadn't been feeding enough at all. Her eyes swam in dark semi circles, bruise like and deep. On the way to the house, she had wiped the blood off of her, but I knew she hadn't fed – apart from that – in a long time.

When she looked down, I could hear echoes of shame. She was remembering the hunger, the recklessness in letting herself get that close to humans. I tried to do the mental equivalent of turning my head away, but it didn't work. I hated my ability then, wished I could shut it off and believe her dazzling smile, her beautiful lies. I wished I could _believe_.

"Edward," Carlisle said with a hint of authority to his voice. I heard his idea before it was vocalised - I couldn't believe he was going to be that obtuse. "Why don't you take Rosalie into the woods and show her the best place to hunt?"

Esme nodded enthusiastically, her lovely eyes flitting back and forth between us. This would have to be dealt with. I couldn't possibly exist with their false hopes for us, the situation alone was bad enough.

I smiled nonetheless and nodded in agreement. Rosalie and I left the house and headed into the woods, walking in polite silence through the twilight. When we were far enough away, she stopped and held up a cold, pale hand.

"Enough," she whispered. "You can go now."

'…_.can__'__t do this__…__.can__'__t bear this__…__..all my fault anyway__…__.so stupid__…__.too painful__…'_

"Go?" I asked, trying desperately to shut out all her thoughts. "Why?"

"Let's not stretch this any further than it has to go. We can be civilised in front of Carlisle and Esme, but I cannot bear this false courtesy when we are alone. It is as if nothing ever happened between us." I could hear the pain interwoven in her words, didn't she know how much it hurt me to hear it? Didn't she know how much I was hurting too?

But my answer was a cold one. "As you wish." I turned away swiftly, before I would do something regretful, and I left her alone on the outskirts of the woods.

*

**-Emmett-**

I had done well, better than I thought I would. A deer was slung over my shoulder, bleeding thinly from the neck. It had taken me a good few hours, but it was worth it. I could almost taste the delicious stew that Ma would make out of it. I felt happy then, happy that I could help my family and see them well fed. So happy was I, that I didn't pay much attention to the swelling darkness all around me. I began to make my way back home, following the indications of nature that would lead to the outskirts of the forest. I hadn't come across any trouble and although it was practically night, I wasn't worried.

Not like I should have been.

As I walked, the heavy dead animal carcass on my back, I began to hear sounds. The gentle cracking of twigs, noises that were made by an animal treading softly. An animal that was hunting. I picked up the pace a little, reaching around my shoulder for the rifle as I moved with a swiftness that was powered by fear.

When I heard the snarl, I froze mid-step.

Something was behind me.

The familiar woods turned alien, the very night seemed to still to a deathly silence and I knew then that I was done for. The blood of the animal on my back was my undoing, the creature behind me had been drawn by it.

But I turned around to face my death, nonetheless.

The gigantic black bear roared deafeningly and then charged at me with terrifying speed. The impact of the blow as it raised it's massive paw, broke my jaw bone. Bright yellow light flashed before my eyes and I went down hard.

I heard screaming as it began to maul me, ripping in to me pieces, great chunks of skin from my legs and tearing at me with it's claws. I realised it was me screaming. All I could think of my was family, and how I had failed them. The pain was more than I could take and the shock was dulling it, thankfully. The sounds my body made while breaking and tearing, were far worse than the pain itself.

I began to slip into numbness, feeling my bones rattle. I was dying, of that I was certain.

The bear began to fade around the edges, it's teeth and eyes falling into obscurity. This was it - my death. All thought seemed to have forsaken me and I could only register the mild shock that I was dying in such a manner, without ever having been married, having been with a woman or having made a baby. I had never seen the ocean, I had never been in love. I would die without having even barely lived.

But then there was another sound, another growl pierced my foggy awareness and it wasn't the bear. I couldn't see through the blackness, but I could still hear. A loud crack came from above me and the mauling ceased.

"Oh God…Oh God no…"

The voice was heavenly, a female voice. When I opened my eyes, I realised that I had died.

An angel was staring down at me. Even in the darkness, I could make her out. The moon above us illuminated her in pure white light, making her hair glow.

Well this couldn't be so bad, could it? The pain seemed to have dulled after something in my back had snapped. If she was in heaven, how terrible could it be? She was speaking to me, her hands on my face. I couldn't make out what she was saying, it echoed too much. She looked like she was crying. I wanted to tell her to stop - that she shouldn't cry, because it was alright - we were in heaven. Shouldn't she know that?

Then she put her hand over her mouth and nose and closed her eyes tightly as if in pain. That upset me - she shouldn't be in pain. We were dead, she was an angel - angels didn't feel pain. Ma had always said that heaven was an end to all the earthly woes, the end of pain and suffering. Had she lied? It occurred to me then that I might still have been alive, and the angel might be coming here to take me. I tired to speak, but there was too much air. I could feel a breeze in my lungs. Had my throat been torn out?

I tried to move, but nothing worked. I was like a puppet who's strings had been cut. I was icy cold and the pain was starting to thrum all over my body, but what did any of that matter? What did it matter when she was looking down at me like that, and putting her hands on my face?

I think I fell in love in that very moment, while I was dying. When she picked me up, as if I was weightless, I decided that this whole dying business wasn't nearly as bad as everyone had made out. She took me from there, and sped us away through the night - flying.

*

* * *

_A/N - So that wasn't too long was it my darlings? I tried V hard to get this up quickly, even though it was tricky to write - I currently have no laptop and no internet connection. Am working off an old dinosaur that doesn't have an 'S' key. You have to copy and paste an existing 'S'. Nice, huh? Anyhoo - I enjoyed writing this, Emmett is a wonderful character and so easy to write - upcoming chapters are going to be interesting muhahahaha! If you thought there was sexual tension before, you ain't seen nothin' yet!!!! Also - I want to say a massive thank you to all who have reviewed so far, I treasure what you say and love you all. Thank so much! Keep them coming! x x x x x xx x x x x_


	13. Chapter 13: What Is Denied

_**-Chapter Thirteen: What is Denied- **_

'_We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us.__'_

_- Francois Rabelais_

_**-**_**Edward-**

I had promised Carlisle, in an unspoken gentlemanly manner, that I would stay with Rosalie while she hunted - and since I had been anything but gentlemanly, not to mention having left her alone, I didn't return to the house right away.

Instead I ran.

I ran as fast as I possibly could, in the opposite direction _from _her_. _I ran through blackness and night, past trees and buildings which I could see in rich, infinitesimal detail. I ran past people, past lives and families. I ran through the wind, leaving a trail of whisked dusk behind me until I came to a river and only managed to stop running when I was halfway across it. I had been running so fast, I had almost walked on water. I didn't swim, instead I let myself go under into pure velvet darkness and silence. I let the water fill my lungs and nose, I deprived my senses and waited for some semblance of peace.

But it never came.

Even in darkness and deep water, I was still thinking of her. Damn her! How could she do this to me? Surrounded by water and nothingness, I could somehow see her face, floating before my eyes. Backlit with golden light, smiling darkly and promising me everything and nothing all at the same time.

My feet hit the river bed and I kicked off, upwards until I broke the surface. I spat out a long stream of water from my lungs and nose and swam back to the shore, both furious and desolate and cursing the day Rosalie Hale was born.

When I had read books about love, in my early years, it was always depicted to be a beautiful, fragrant, peaceful phenomenon that came into dreary lives and made them bright and perfect. Love was pink, red and golden - sweet and kind, heavenly and soft.

Only it wasn't.

I shook water out of my hair and laughed bitterly at my memories. Love was nothing like it was made out to be. Painful, dark, aching, demanding, black and blue, sharp and cutting. It wrecked lives, turning all light into addictive shadows that followed you around even in the sun.

It had crept into my soul and nothing I could do, _nothing,_ could get rid of it. I loved her more than the waking day, more than I loved myself or my family or any beautiful thing on the entire planet. I adored her and it didn't matter that it was breaking me apart - all that mattered was that I loved her.

My uncertainty was growing, my icy restraint was fading. I could feel the weakness setting in, warm and inviting, akin to memories of what sleep felt like. I wanted to be with her. But could I?

Had I ruined all chances of it? Had my mood swings damage the possibility of being able to kiss her, hold her, tell her how much I loved her?

I laughed again, marvelling at my own breathtaking indecision and ambivalence. I seemed to have lost my mind, all common sense had abandoned me.

What could I do, caught between the precipice of love and hate? Who knew what was right and what was wrong? Morality and sense had forsaken me entirely and I decided there and then - that I could stand it no longer. Mere moments spent away from her were agony - I could hear her saying she loved me, over and over again like a stuck record. Each time my heart twisted a little more, and I longed to see her.

I made my decision.

* * *

I ran so fast through the night air that by the time I reached our house, I was practically dry. My hair was windswept and my eyes were black, I was extremely thirsty - but these were meaningless trivialities in the face of my goal.

The scent of blood hit me hard, wrenching my thirst to first priority. I gasped as if struck. Human blood, when I was this thirsty (and potentially unhinged), was not a good idea. I looked down at the shadowy grass, each blade visible to me lit up by the lovely moon overhead. There was blood on it, minute droplets clung lightly to each weak stalk. It had come from the forest, that much I knew.

Had Rosalie come across a human? It seemed unlikely; Rosalie had excellent will power when it came to humans (if nothing else). I couldn't imagine her losing control - she would look upon it as weakness, and Rosalie Hale did not brook weakness, not in herself. I knew Carlisle would _never_ do it, and Esme was so rarely without her husband, who would stop her in any case - so what on earth had caused this trail of blood, leading right to my house?

An uneasy prickle of worry stirred at the base of my spine. There was a bad taste upon the air, a nasty feeling in my cold stomach.

I walked swiftly inside, holding my breath, and the thoughts hit me all at once, with such emotion that I actually winced.

'…_.God no! Don__'__t do this, don__'__t let him die! Please__…__.not this one__…__.not one such as he__…__.oh please, please__…"_

'…_promised yourself never again__…__how many more lives affected by your weakness and pity? A fourth? What will Edward think of me? How could I do this again__…__.?__'_

'…_.poor, poor boy - Carlisle will save him, he must__…__.oh he is so badly hurt though, and poor Rosalie is so upset__…__.must be saved, such a lovely face__…__even while dying__…__.never seen such a sweet smile__…__.looks at her like she is his salvation__…__.must decide quickly__…__.only minutes before natural death__…__.my poor Carlisle__…__.such weight upon his shoulders__…__.__'_

'…_.can__'__t see God anywhere, must just be her and me__…__.never believed Ma about angels__…__.never thought I__'__d see one__…__.so damned beautiful__…__.my angel__…__._

"No!"

This could not be happening. Another? Another new addition to our family? This was getting ridiculous! I was still in the middle of dealing with Rosalie, how could we deal with another one? And who even was he? How did this happen?

What was I doing standing in the lobby?

I ran to the wine cellar, where I knew they would take him, and the scent of too much blood, pouring too fast alerted me to my already concrete suspicions. A male was inside, and he was dying.

"In here, Edward," Carlisle called to me. I went inside and saw the young man. I grimaced at the sight of him - there was no question that in mere moments, he would be irrevocably dead. His body was mauled and ripped almost apart. His arms hung unnaturally, his skin was missing great chunks, revealing white bone and muscle underneath. From the way his lower body remained perfectly still, I knew his spine was broken. Yet he was smiling…incredibly….at _her_.

Carlisle and Esme glanced at me, revealing their worry unnecessarily. It did not disturb me, I wasn't going to object in the childish way that I wanted to - far be it from me to deny some stranger immortal life. No, that did not trouble me at all. It wasn't even the way he was looking at her, who couldn't look at her like that?

It was the way _she_ was looking at _him_.

She put her hand to his face soothingly, and then turned her fierce eyes to Carlisle.

"Please," she begged, brokenly. "_Please_. I haven't the strength to stop, please save him."

I knew of Carlisle's hesitation - he had promised himself never again. Yet I watched his resolve evaporate in the space of a second, under Rosalie's pleading eyes. He leant over the young man, whispered something in his ear - and then lowered his mouth to his neck. I wondered if it was the same thing he whispered to me when I was dying.

"_Death will not claim you.__"_

All the while Carlisle bit into him, the young man's eyes never left Rosalie, and nor did hers. They stared at one another with an intensity that made me feel deeply uncomfortable.

And then he began to scream.

* * *

God obviously had a sense of humour, if nothing else.

I watched him scream until his voice gave, until his throat ruptured and he was reduced to wracking shudders of agony that passed over his body with merciless frequency. I watched him hold her hand and squeeze it hard enough to break, were she human. I watched him bite through his bottom lip until it bled and tore. I watched him open his eyes and look at her, and every time he did this - I had to watch her smile at him, and worse…I had to hear their thoughts.

I longed to pull her away from him, this unnamed boy who stole her attention - I wanted to take her somewhere so we could be alone and I could tell her that I loved her. I desperately wanted to touch her, to kiss her lips and feel her eyelashes flutter as I tangled my fingers in her hair.

Half a day passed, cracks of sunlight were attempting to penetrate the dark, shadowy cellar, creating odd sunbeams that illuminated all dust as it flew around the room. I was watching them, watching each other - and only when I realised this, did I decide it was time to leave. I could hear every thought as they thought it, and it was beyond tolerance. I did not want to linger on what they had thought, it felt indecent enough hearing it for the first time - even though they pondered upon nothing more than theology and angels, dimples and babies.

I was ready to leave, if I could break my mysterious self imposed moratoria. But still I stood there, stupidly watching the two people who gazed at one another with such strength that they probably didn't even know I existed.

In the end, it was only Carlisle's hand on my shoulder that made me look away.

"Son," he said gently. "You ought to feed."

I shrugged elegantly, still painfully mesmerised by the strange pair. "Hmmm."

The boy had gone from being torn and mutilated, to being whole and wholly lovely. His blood soaked, matted hair had formed into perfect, chocolaty curls; his ruddy cheeks and tanned skin had whitened like porcelain. The missing flesh had filled out, his bones righted themselves as the scorching venom moved through his body.

'_Edward, you should take Rosalie aside and ask her what has happened.__'_

It was rare that Carlisle spoke directly to me in his mind, although I had often suggested it to him. I managed to shake myself from staring and turn to face him. His eyes were dark with guilt, I knew that much. His shoulders were tense, his mind a troubled whirlwind of guilt.

"She didn't tell you?"

'_I know how the poor boy has come to be like this, I know of the attack, but that__'__s not what I mean and you know it.__'_

I feigned ignorance and finally wrenched my eyes away from them, to look at my father, my inspiration. What I saw in his face shocked me, because it hadn't been in his thoughts.

Pity. He felt pity for _me_. And I couldn't yet see why. I suddenly felt unaccountably young, I felt as though he was rebuking me for doing something that I didn't know was wrong.

I raised my eyebrows, silently challenging him.

'_Talk to her, she shouldn__'__t stay here with him the whole time, not when he__'__s in such pain.__'_

His previous thought still echoed in my head _"…__take Rosalie aside and ask her what has happened__…"_I needed to ask him what he meant by that, but I couldn't without Rosalie hearing it, so instead I did as I was told.

She didn't seem to hear my approach, her face was close to his, she was whispering to him things that I didn't let myself hear. Every time he shuddered, their hands tightened, to the point where I could almost hear their bones creaking. For some strange reason, I was thinking of the night when I had returned home to find Rosalie Hale, begging for death in the cellar. I thought of how cold I had been to her, of how I had walked away and left until her screams had faded into oblivion. I hadn't held her hand, stroked her face and watched her endure the agony with solemn, fierce eyes.

I had dismissed her, left her to it and thought nothing more of her than a complication.

"Rosalie," I said very softly. "Come on, come with me for a while."

Her reply was carved from stone, as if such a suggestion simply wasn't feasible. "No."

"He can't even hear you, come on - just for a little while." In truth, I wasn't keen on going outside either, it was fully daylight an hour or so after sunrise, but I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping to persuade her anyway.

Part of me expected her to shrug out it, to flinch away from my hand, but she didn't. She blew a breath through her teeth, and nodded tersely. She leaned in closer to him, right by the side of his face and whispered that she would be back soon. Then she was walking, ahead of me who was supposed to be leading her.

As she walked past Carlisle she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

That took me aback a little, but I ignored it and we went outside into the blinding daylight.

Once outside, I fell oddly short out words. Was I now supposed to make everything alright? Was there a combination of well articulated reassurances that could somehow solve this madness?

But she spoke first. "Your unsubtle attempt is deeply unnecessary. I am fine."

"I know you're fine, I thought you might…Carlisle asked me to." I didn't even bother trying to lie to her.

I looked at her, she was _so_ achingly beautiful. There was blood on her arms and on her clothes, some even in her hair. Her skin sparkled like diamond dust, her eyes were darker, but it wasn't all from hunger. I loved looking at her, even when things were like this.

"He wants you and I to talk. To clean up our little mess."

"He wants to know what happened in the woods."

"I told him of the attack."

"He means…between you and the boy."

She snorted with laughter. "He is not a boy. You infer that perhaps there was no bear? That perhaps I attacked him in a frenzy?"

"No," I denied vehemently. "I know that is not what happened!"

"Then what? I cannot read minds, Edward - what are you asking me?"

"It's just…" I paused, unwilling to say something so ridiculous out loud. "You seem to know him. Do you?"

Her lips pursed. "Excuse me?"

I gritted my teeth and continued. "You seem close."

"The first time I ever laid eyes on him, was when he was being torn apart. Would you have me let him die?"

"It's natural for him to die!" I tore out, instantly regretting it.

"Oh really? So he should have died? As we all should have? Who are you to decide who lives and who dies? You may think you're God, Edward but you're really not!"

"Carlisle should decide!"

"He _did_!"

"No, you came to him and begged him - as if anyone could refuse you, Rosalie Hale! It was unfair to ask him, you know he would never deny you anything - right or wrong!"

"But you would deny me what I want, Edward? Right or wrong? How dare you stand there with you moral code, and pathetic childishness - a spoilt brat who refuses to share, you disgust me!" she snarled viciously. "How dare you question anything about me?"

"How dare I?" I laughed bitterly. "It's _you_…_YOU_ who has done this to me, you selfish spiteful little bitch! You have no idea what I've been through since you came here, what you've done to me….I'll never get over it! Your revolting need for attention has driven me to do things that go against every moral fibre in my body and you have the _audacity_ to scream your indignations at me?"

"Oh yes, because you were such an _angel_ when I was brought into your life, Edward Cullen! You were the pinnacle of moral hygiene; murderer, narcissist, Goddamned arrogant bastard who only wanted me when you realised I was as broken and as dark as you. You're sick, and now you can't stand it!"

"Stand what?"

"Him!" she yelled, pointing in at the house. "You wouldn't even look at me before!"

I had never felt this angry before in my life. "This has _nothing_ to do with him!"

"Oh really?" she snorted disbelievingly.

"Yes really! Before he came I…" I stopped myself before it came out.

She threw her arms out impatiently. "What? You what? Huh? You were going to tell me how much you love me, how we could be together? It's _done,_ like you said! Let it go - we do nothing but hurt each other and the more we dance this dance, the more I come to hate you and myself."

"Just like that?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "You're insane!"

I closed the space between us in one stride and took her by the wrist, yanking her to face level.

"Only as much as you!"

I kissed her ruthlessly, breathing in her scent and tasting her unwilling lips. It lasted only for a full second before she tore out of my grip and viciously cracked her hand around my face. It resonated around the forest like a gunshot.

"I hate you," she breathed in a trembling voice. "I hate you more than anyone I have ever known, and that includes _Royce King_! At least he had the courage to follow through!"

I hit her back, hard. She put her hand to her face, not from the pain - I knew that much - but from the shock that I had hit her. I hated myself for it, but her words had hurt me beyond anything I had ever felt before and my hand had come up involuntarily.

Neither of us said anything for a long time, we just stood there frozen and glaring. The wind blew around us, moving her hair and mine. Finally I managed to breathe in enough to speak, I was surprised to hear how my own voice sounded; so foreign and raw.

"What have we done?"

She shook her head and stepped back, my voice bringing her back to reality. "Don't talk to me. Don't ever talk to me again."

And she walked away from me, to go back to him.

* * *

_A/N - Hello my beautiful, amazing darling readers! I just want to say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has reviewed, you're all just...lovely! I really do love you all, and treasure each comment you leave. _

_Onto the chapter. It turned out way more angsty than intended, but these characters are stubborn - they have their own idea about what they want to do, and they wanted a big fight so...that's what happened. I know I promised sexual tension, and believe me - there will be some, just in the next chapter. Let's just say that Edward is not going to like some upcoming events. _

_Thanks again for all the reviews and very helpful criticisms (I am terrible with typos - I just don't see them when reading them back, and I hopefully sorted out the whole past and present tense mess) - keep them coming. Next up very soon x x x _


	14. Chapter 14: Memories

**- Chapter Fourteen: Memories -**

**-Rosalie-**

When I was younger and still mortal, I could recall with startling clarity a saying my mother would recite to me every single day and it always came about whenever I was looking in a mirror. I didn't really understand why, after all my parents thanked God for the way I looked - they knew as well as I did, that it meant they would marry me to someone very rich. My beauty was the key to their happiness, so it always annoyed me when my mother would see me looking in the mirror, and spout the well worn Latin phrase at me, as if giving me gravely necessary advice.

She would frown at me and say "Facilis descensus averno."

_Easy is the descent to hell. _

I already knew this, I spoke Latin with enough fluency that I understood what she was telling me, what she was implying my vanity would do to my soul. I ignored her completely, of course. She was just jealous because, even in her prime, she had never been as lovely or at dazzling as I was.

Sometimes I wondered, numbly, if I missed her. I examine that strange void inside of me and wonder if I actually miss my mother. She seemed now such a distant memory, a story that happened to someone else. Then I close my eyes hard and don't open them until I can see her face clearly.

Memories were important to me, even the bad ones.

There was too much tension in the air, everyone in our house was upset in some way. Carlisle and Esme know of the fight between me and _him_ and although they haven't said anything, I knew that they are worrying about it. Edward did not leave the house as I thought he would, instead he sits with the boy, who's name I still do not know. This meant that I couldn't be with him, I did not want to be anywhere near Edward. Instead I went to the south part of the house and watched the sunset through a glass window.

I was thinking about my mother. My determination to cling onto memories was backfiring slightly, but it didn't matter. I was remembering too much, times when I was little and I had asked her questions.

"_Momma?__"__ I had asked innocently playing with my hair. I was barely eight years old, sitting __at my dressing table staring at the lovely girl in the glass. _

"_Yes dear?__"_

"_Christiana Andrews told me today that I would have to get married. What__ is__ married?__"_

"_Well my dear, Christiana Andrews is perfectly correct,__"__ my mother had replied primly, rifling through my many outfits in the wardrobe. __"__Every upstanding lady is granted the honour of being married.__"_

"_Yes,__"__ I said a little impatiently. __"__But what is it?__"_

_My mother laughed. __"__What do you think it is, darling?__"_

"_I don__'__t know,__"__ I lied. I had my own little, somewhat inaccurate, idea about what it meant. Based on these, I had no desire to get married at all, but my mother was quick to allay all my fears. _

"_Well, getting married is the best thing in your life. The greatest thing you__'__ll ever do. It will be the most wonderful day of your life, because it is the day you stop being a Princess and start being a Queen. You__'__ll have a man you love, who will take care of you and everything in your life will be perfect. You__'__ll have a magnificent house, like a castle, and servants to do whatever you want.__"_

_It did sound wonderful and I was easily drawn in, my mother knew how to manipulate my vanity well. But this vague blob of a man still concerned me. _

"_What man?__"_

_My mother laughed again. __"__Let your Father and I decide that for you, we will find you the best man in all of Rochester.__"_

"_What if I don__'__t like him?__"_

"_He__'__ll be the richest, most handsome man around! What could you possibly find not to like?__"_

_I shrugged, not able to place the small nagging worry that she had left something out of that list. I went back to staring at myself until I annoyed my mother enough that she recited her __'__Hell__'__ phrase and I looked away. _

I could see now, with the value of hindsight, how much my mother had lied to me. I could clearly see her greed and desperation for social ascension and how it had all fallen to me to grant her that. She had lied to me, told me beautiful fairy tales about love and marriage and I had been stupid and vain enough to believe them.

Deeply bitter thoughts about men were rising up inside me like bile, choking and burning me. I knew it wasn't fair to simply hate all men - because Carlisle, after all, was a man - but I couldn't repress the seething hatred that bubbled in my chest.

I had believed that Royce would care for me, even love me. I had been stupid and I had paid for that stupidity with more than my life.

Sometimes I thought about it; what he did to me and then let all his friends do to me. I replayed it in my head, telling myself that I needed to remember it, so it could never happen again. Memories were important. Whenever I thought of this, I told myself that I was angry, furious and vengeful - but I wasn't. I was angry at myself, furious for my own weakness. I could see it too clearly, opportunities that I missed when I could have run. I could have made it home to my parents, told them of what Royce tried to do and they would have called the whole thing off.

Wouldn't they?

Or would they tell me I was being silly? Would they ignore my tales, dismiss me as a hysterical girl who saw shadows instead of men? Of course they would. They wouldn't jeopardise their chance of marrying into such a prestigious family. They would put their own happiness above my safety.

CRACK!

I looked down at my hands and realised I had cracked my rings again. I decided to stop wearing them, particularly if such emotions were going to continue to grip me in such a way.

That managed to shake me out of my extremely dark reverie; the sun had set now and I was bathed in milky twilight. I sighed and decided to go sit with him, regardless of who else was there.

* * *

When I returned to the cellar, all three of them were with him. Edward was, interestingly enough, the closest to him. I wondered, recklessly, if he was warning the boy to steer clear of me; telling how much trouble I was, what ruin and wreckage I would bring to his life. I knew Edward would never stoop that low, but then I never thought he would hit a woman, even an immortal one.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts. It was deeply irrational; he would never say anything like that when Carlisle and Esme were so close. They both looked at me and smiled kindly. Edward didn't look away from the soon-to-be newborn. The room felt cold, undoubtedly the icy tension between us, but I was still angry enough that I didn't care.

The boy was in such pain, it physically hurt me to see him like it. His hands were clenched together, still covered in blood and trembling. I went to him and - as I suspected he would - Edward backed away. _Let him_, I thought to myself. Carlisle and Esme would just have to come to terms with the fact that we were never going to have a healthy kind of relationship, not even a friendship. There was just too much….

'_Stop it! Focus on the poor boy, he needs you now.__'_My thoughts managed to stop me from wandering down my own, thorny memory lane.

"How is he?" I whispered, watching him react slightly to the sound of my voice.

Carlisle nodded, biting his bottom lip, that look in his eyes that I remember when I was writhing in such pain. "He will be alright. It's healing him fast, his injuries were no worse than Esme suffered."

"Why isn't he screaming?" Esme asked, gently placing her hand on my arm affectionately. "I don't understand how he can refrain."

"He ruptured his throat," Edward explained to her, a sympathy in his tone that surprised me.

"Will that heal?" she asked her husband, already displaying motherly concern. Esme was nothing if not a loving person, always willing to expand the family a little more - always willing to love another child.

"Of course. The pain he is enduring might just be beyond screaming," Carlisle explained heavily.

"I told him it wouldn't do any good to scream," I said and everyone looked at me.

"You're right, of course," Esme said soothingly after a long moment. "And look at him. He's already so beautiful."

It was true. He was beautiful in a way that I wasn't used to. Not beautiful like Edward, who was visually stunning in every sense of the word; Edward whose face was the envy of angels.

No, he was beautiful in a totally different way. He was….lovely. Absolutely, angelically lovely. His beauty was warm and golden, whereas Edward's was cold like marble, and sharp as silver. Edwards's beauty had an edge to it, he could turn it around when he wanted to and I knew I had the same ability. But this boy was unlike anything I had ever seen. He didn't even remind me of Vera's baby anymore. He had his own sort of beauty.

"Very," Edward agreed, nodding. "He'll be strong too. Stronger than all of us, even when he's no longer a newborn."

"I only wish we knew his name ," Esme said, leaning her head on her husband's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her lovingly. It made my heart ache a little to see them like that, but I dismissed the thought. I could never be jealous of them, I loved them too much.

"He'll tell us," Carlisle said, kissing her cheek. "Soon."

It didn't seem soon. I could well recall the bone splintering agony of what I had endured while changing. I could remember hating God for not letting me die, such was the pain. I thought years had passed by the time it had finished.

He jolted suddenly, taking in a strangled gasp of air which then became a groan. "His throat is healed," Carlisle said, at his side in a flash. He leaned close to him to check. "Yes, completely healed." I wasn't sure if that a blessing or a curse, I didn't want to hear him screaming again.

To my amazement, he spoke instead of screamed. "Please," he gasped hoarsely. "Please kill me."

I moved to his side also, taking his hand in mine again and letting him hold it as tightly as he wanted. "It'll be over soon, you'll be fine. Better than fine," I promised. At the sound of my voice, he managed to open his eyes.

"Will you…be….there?" he managed, through gritted teeth.

I nodded solemnly. "Yes," I promised him. "I will."

He nodded once before closing his eyes again and trying to stay silent throughout the scorching pain. I hated that my selfishness had done this to him; put him in this intolerable pain. I didn't want to leave him again, I would stay with him throughout.

And, perhaps hearing my decision, Edward got up and announced that he was going to hunt.

* * *

Time passed just as it pleased, occasionally swift but primarily slow. The remaining two days of his painful transformation dragged on achingly, save for each time someone spoke to me and time seemed to take great leaps during those moments. It was strange, but I was no stranger to the capricious nature of time. It seemed to enjoy playing tricks on us all, particularly me.

Edward didn't return until that third day; no-one asked why he had been gone so long, considering that the woods were full of elk and deer and located so close. He didn't speak directly to me and I was savagely pleased, careful to keep the mental imagery of his blow to me, at the front of my mind - should he attempt to read it. It was so much easier like this, so uncomplicated and straightforward. Admittedly, I was eager for it to continue. I knew that forgiveness and reconciliation would be yet another foray into a complex and deeply muddled relationship that needed to realise it was destined for devastating failure.

No, this was far more simple. I liked having a reason to hate him, to blame him - and I was not going to relinquish it any time soon.

Gradually, the boy's pain lessened and Carlisle told me that it was nearing it's end. I watched him closer, noting every single detail on his face, not really knowing why.

His shudders sped up a little, which worried me but Carlisle explained that it was normal; the pain was focusing itself to his throat. He trembled even more than he had and at one point I had to hold him down while he silently struggled.

He drew in one last breath, exhaled and was finally still - if only for one moment. He was a newborn, perfect and frozen for all time; we had all watched him die be reborn. Some rational part of me was amazed at what I had bore witness to; without sentimental attachment it really was an incredible process. Now that it was over, I was breathless to find out his name; hear him speak, see him move. We all watched him as he looked around in mild wonder and then when he breathed in, we all heard his shocked little gasp as he tasted so many different flavours and scents. He sat up and looked down at his own hands, twisting them in the narrow rays of light. And then he looked at us.

"Are you dead too?" he asked, almost curiously. They all smiled at his innocent enquiry - I did not. I didn't want him to think he was dead. I waited for Carlisle to answer as his question, as we all knew he would.

"You are not dead, nor are we. There is much that has changed, however - and we will explain it all to you."

"I'm not dead?"

"No."

"But you," he said and swivelled his focus onto me fully. "You're an angel."

I didn't know what to say to that, but I knew a smile was tugging at the corners of my mouth. I decided to be logical. "I am not an angel."

There was a small noise from Edward's corner of the room which I managed to ignore.

"You saved me."

"Carlisle saved you," I replied, indicating to Carlisle. "He stopped you dying."

"No," he insisted gently, frowning a little as if it was hard to remember. "You carried me, we flew…I remember it. You saved me."

"It doesn't matter now." But he was looking at me as if it did matter, a lot.

Esme broke the developing silence. "What is your name?" she asked, her voice full of warmth.

Never taking his eyes off me, he replied "Emmett. Emmett McCarthy." Then he broke contact and looked around at them all with considerable calm. "What's your names?"

Carlisle stepped forward, I thought how strange this must be to have to introduce ourselves. _Yes hello, we__'__re the people who ended your mortal life and sat with you while you begged to die. _I had already known of the Cullens while I was dying; no introductions necessary. Nevertheless, the strange event occurred.

"I am Carlisle Cullen. This is my wife, Esme Cullen. This is Edward and I believe you already know Rosalie."

"Rosalie," he echoed softly. "Hello." His smile faded slightly, he frowned a little, apparently trying to remember something else. "You said…while I was burning…you told me something. Was that true?" This was directed at Carlisle, who was waiting for him to ask it.

Carlisle nodded. "Yes. As I said, I will tell you everything."

I stood by his side as Carlisle explained it all to him, everything about his new life that I knew off by heart. I watched his face carefully to see his reaction to it - Edward was right, he was strong, not only physically but mentally. He took everything Carlisle told him and he seemed to be able to cope well enough with it. Soon enough, a few minutes later, he began to wince in pain and finally put his hand to his throat. The thirst, we all knew, was demanding to be sated.

"…which is why you feel such burning in your throat," Carlisle finished. "You need to feed."

I shook my head, a swell of sympathy for the poor boy's sanity washed over me. How could anyone possibly cope with being told such things? It had taken me a full week to believe Carlisle about the need for blood (something I had been revolted by) and I had foolishly attempted to abstain for as long as possible. I hadn't lasted very long and only when I had capitulated did I understand that refraining was deeply unnecessary.

What concerned me now, was how well he seemed to be taking it. Certainly it was too soon for it to sink in properly - perhaps he was in some kind of shock.

"Like the stories Ma told us," he said to himself with a sort of laugh. "Can I hunt in the forest?"

"Under supervision," Edward replied. "These woods are somewhat populated; if you come across a human you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. For the first few years at least."

His smile faded a little. "What?"

Edward and Carlisle exchanged worried glances before seeking to reassure him that everything would be much clearer after he partook of the excursion they were suggesting.

'_He has family,__'_ I thought to myself. For the first time in days, Edward looked directly at me and despite everything between us - we shared the single emotion of sympathy for him. Our deaths had come to us at a time when we either had no family or had no family we cared for. Never seeing my parents again was a price I could bear very easily; Edward's family were all dead before him. For Emmett, however, it was clearly a different situation.

Edward looked away from me, as if it hurt to look at me too long. He put his hand on Emmett's shoulder and he and Carlisle led him away to commence the ritual he would follow from now on.

* * *

A week passed, or at least in human time. To them seven days and seven nights; to us an endless span of movement and moratoria, marked by darkness and light, a week could have been a month and each moment that passed held some weight, some significance. Every second that ticked by was accounted for - we could count them as they passed, loud and slow. 86400 seconds in a day - 604800 moments in a week and we could have given them all names as they passed.

Perhaps it was part of the punishment for what we had been given - such beauty, strength and immortality in exchange for bloodlust and excessive time.

I sighed, watching my icy breath unfurl into the dark night air, fading before the moon. Another beautiful night lay before me, the benign darkness touching everything it could and transforming the world into a place of possibility and mystery. I looked around me at the garden in which I stood. It really was beautiful. A stream ran through it, tiny rocky waterfalls here and there. Winter flowers were scattered around in the thick grass and a large, white stone arch stood at the bottom of the garden where it connected to the woods. There were beautiful carvings in the soft stone, Latin words about love and heaven.

Love and heaven - if they even existed.

Emmett McCarthy had been a vampire for a week and I, Rosalie Hale, had done nothing but watch him the entire time. I watched him speak, I watched him laugh, I memorised his face, the curve of his smile - and knew every contour of his jaw line and cheekbones.

And all the while, I had felt Edward watching me while I watched someone else.

It had driven me outside and this was where I had ended up. Leaning against the white stone arch in the soft moonlight, wishing for things I couldn't even articulate.

And once again, memories were flooding my consciousness; of why I wasn't sure, all I knew was that it was helpless. The past was a merciless master, to which I was wholly bound. This particular memory was unpleasant and I knew why it was plaguing me, I understood the relevance.

_It was the first time I had spoken in private with Royce King. I could see his handsome face, his eyes and the easy, inherited good looks of his family. He was dressed impressively, for my benefit I knew. We sat in the parlour of his house, his family had unsubtly retreated to give us time alone. I sat primly, in my most beautiful blue velvet dress, my hair up in a style that had taken almost two hours to perfect. The dress was far too tight and the pins were hurting my hair but these were agonies I was well used to suffering. I smiled demurely_ _the whole time, waiting for him to speak to me. _

"_So, Miss Hale,__"__ he said, reaching for the beautiful china tea cup on the saucer. __"__I understand that you have completed your education?__"_

_I didn__'__t want to talk about school, I wanted him to _talk_ to me - to say things that would break open secrets and boundaries, I wanted him to ask things about _me_, not my lifestyle. But I smiled and nodded, my hands clasped gently together. _

"_Yes. In fact, I was considering further education for a small while but__…"_

"_Surely your father put paid to such silliness though?__"__ he laughed, as if I had made a joke. I smiled again and nodded. My father and mother had not liked the idea of me pursuing further education; it was considered somewhat unbefitting for someone such as myself. My mother had told me that my career was due to begin shortly anyway, and it had nothing to do with education. _

"_Indeed he did. Your house is very beautiful,__"__ I commented, looking around at the extravagant luxury in which we sat. White polished marble, cream fur carpets, crystal chandeliers and genuine art pieces hung on the velvet walls. _

_He laughed and sat back. __"__My mother__'__s decor is a little too gaudy for my taste. I confess that when I marry I would prefer to live away from my parents, and certainly not in this house.__"_

_My interest prickled. I felt the same - I didn__'__t want to live with someone else__'__s styles and designs, I wanted my own. It was common knowledge that he certainly had enough money to buy and remodel a home of his own. _

"_You have a geographical preference?__"__ I asked politely, drinking the sugarless tea. I wasn__'__t allowed sugar of any kind. _

_He waved his hand dismissively. __"__Far away,__"__ he laughed. I relaxed a little. He was very easy to be around, no falseness or tight decorum. He looked at me, his eyes were strangely shallow - all light seemed to bounce off them. __"__And you, Miss Hale? Would you prefer to put distance between your parents and your own house?__"_

_Of course I did. My parents were a constant unending source of irritation and annoyance - my mother in particular. __"__Perhaps,__"__ I answered diplomatically. __"__Depending upon the circumstances of course.__"_

_This was all a performance, born of politeness. I knew from the discussions with my parents and his, that it was very likely we would be married. In fact, I wouldn__'__t have been very surprised if he asked me before the day was out. _

"_Did you like your flowers?__"__ he asked me, sipping his tea. _

"_Very much, thank you again. They were beautiful__"_

"_Only vegetation compared to your radiance,__"__ he said smoothly. I blushed a little, unprepared for such a compliment, even though I fully knew it to be true. __"__You must have received many bunches of roses before me.__"_

_His eyes turned strangely calculative - I knew that look now, with hindsight, but then it was unfamiliar. I knew there was another question beneath that, but I didn__'__t see the motive for it. _

"_No. Never.__"_

_His smile widened. __"__Pity.__"__ It didn__'__t sound like he believed that. He sounded pleased. __"__Then I will count myself the luckiest man in all of Rochester, nay the world.__"_

_I didn__'__t know what to say to that; nothing that would be considered proper anyway. I smiled awkwardly and tried to appear relaxed. In truth his question made me uncomfortable, was I supposed to have received flowers from others before this? Did that mean he didn__'__t want me because he was the first suitor I had ever received?_

_Perhaps he sensed my discomfort because he leaned forward and took my hand in his. __"__You are a rare and beautiful thing, Rosalie Hale. I count myself lucky to be in your company.__"__ He kissed my hand and I desperately wanted the discomfort to melt away - but it didn__'__t I smiled at him though and kept my face free from any evidence of my uneasiness. _

"_And I in yours.__"_

_He stood up and I did the same. __"__Until we meet again,__"__ he said and nodded his head respectfully at me. He smiled one last time and then led me to the door where, unsurprisingly, both sets of parents were loitering outside. _

_I looked back at him, the last time I saw him before he proposed marriage to me, and realised that he would be the man I spent my life with. The unease increased, but I shoved it down with the thoughts of how I could decorate our large, expansive mansion and how I would be the envy of all my friends. How I would be Rosalie King and the consequent queen of all I ever wanted. I thought of how my dreams would come true. _

I shook my head, a sneer of self loathing curling my lip. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have ignored the blatant signs that screamed at me - the disposition of his character, the shallow cold in his eyes. The too bright smile, the abundant charm.

I felt despair well up in my heart because all memories of life before what I was now, led to another set of memories, fragmented by blood and broken bones, torn skin and ruined innocence. The cold street beneath me, and the nauseatingly warm male above me. The pain and the numbness, tears and bruises and the salty taste of his palm over my mouth as I tried to scream. Laughter and darkness and the word that summed all of this up, that I still didn't want to say or even think to myself because it was such a jarring word - almost onomatopoeic.

"_Don__'__t think of it,__"_Edward had told me once, curling a strand of hair around his fingers. "_Just block it out,__"_

Yes, that would be Edward's answer. Block it out, pretend it didn't happen. That was his way, but not mine. I needed my memories, bad and good. Without them, I would forget - and if I forgot, then it could happen again.

I laughed at myself bitterly. It was beyond stupid, I knew that. I was torturing myself unnecessarily. Edward was right - I should let it go, move on, forget and pretend. But if I could do that, then he would standing here with me, behind me with his hands curled around my waist, his lips against my neck.

And he wasn't. I couldn't let it go - I couldn't forget.

The night remained impassive to all my despair, I hadn't expected anything to the contrary. I knew by now that the world went on with it's business, regardless of what happened to me or anyone else. I thought of my parents, what had become of them? Had they gone on with their lives after my disappearance? I imagined that they had; after a few weeks of crying, I could see them clawing their way back into society. This was unfair, of course. They weren't that bad, but my bitterness was twisting things in consistency with my mood.

There was a sound, unnatural and a silence too sudden and suspicious that followed it. Someone was outside. I tasted the air, praying that it wasn't Edward.

But it wasn't, it was Emmett.

"It's alright," I spoke aloud, my voice carrying through the still night air. "You can come out." Of course he could come outside - I didn't have a tearstained face or red eyes and besides his company was not what I was avoiding. I could smell him now, that smell that was entirely his own; trees and fire and, more recently, blood.

"I didn't know you were out here," he offered apologetically. I turned away from the ornate stone archway and faced him with a smile.

"It doesn't matter," I said, shaking my head. "I was leaving anyway."

He looked a little disappointed. "Oh. Where were you going?"

"I need to hunt."

"You always hunt alone," he commented. "Why?"

"I don't hunt alone. I usually hunt with Esme. You just haven't been here long enough to witness it. Besides, the more time passes the easier it gets. You might be able to hunt on your own soon. Given time." A few stray clouds shifted, illuminating him. He was already so lovely, and the moonlight just made him even more so. My mind went to make the automatic comparison to Edward, but I shut it off and determinedly turned my thoughts away from him. "Where are Carlisle and Esme?"

He smiled and indicated with his head to the house. "Inside. I think they wanted to be alone, I sort of got the feelin' it was a special day for them."

My lips parted in surprise. Had it been a year since that night? Surely not? Only a year? "Their anniversary? It slipped my mind."

He laughed at me, gently. "I love the way you talk."

"Excuse me?"

More laughter. "Like that. You all speak so…proper. I feel like such a commoner around you all."

"You're not," I said firmly. "The way you speak only reflects on your upbringing and has no relevance to who you are whatsoever." He looked at me, the same smile in his eyes. I tried to recall anyone smiling like that and failed.

"Still, you're all so well to do. You won't want me around much longer." He was feeling his way, being careful about something he would later say but I wasn't sure what it was.

"Don't be silly," I said, walking towards him but stopping a few feet away. "You're family."

His smile faded a little and I wished I hadn't said anything. His family were a painful subject; being told that he could never see them again was a severe price to the antidote of his demise. One he was struggling with.

"I miss them so much," he admitted softly, avoiding my eyes. "Especially my sister, Sarah. They rely on me so much and now…I can't even think about it - about what they're going through."

My heart wrenched for him, I wanted to do something that would make him forget about them - but then I would be a hypocrite; me and my memories.

"Well, we can remedy that," I said, barely a whisper.

He looked at me with bright eyes that seemed to absorb the moonlight. "How?"

I crooked a finger beckoningly and he - setting a precedent that would last forever - followed me.

* * *

_A/N - My darling readers, thanks for staying with me during this 'S' keyless madness. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, I think it's one of my favourites to date. I tried to get this up soon, the next will follow in swift procession hopefully. _

_Anyway, thanks again for reviewing, you're all gorgeous and I love you! Please continue to do so and let me know what you thought. x x x _


	15. Chapter 15: Mistake

**-Chapter Fifteen: Mistake- **

**-Edward-**

The music floated gently all around me, even though I tried not to hear it. That and the soft laughter, the loving words and the embraces that rustled the fabric of their clothing. More than once it occurred to me that it might not be Carlisle and Esme and such thoughts caused my throat to close up with an unnamed fury.

I was wrong, of course. Tonight was Carlisle and Esme's anniversary; I didn't even know of what - the first time they met, kissed, were married, united by death and bound by immortality? But regardless, I knew that it was them I could hear, not the _other_ two.

For the first time in my life, I was jealous. Actually, it wasn't just jealousy. I had felt jealousy before - I had been jealous of another child's toy - of things that I didn't have. This was beyond jealousy. What I felt was a ripping sensation, driving all logic and common sense from me, replacing it with icy resentment and a burning desire that somehow existed together, in duality.

But what did I have to be jealous about? So she stared at him, so he stared at her - it didn't mean anything. Did it? So he had confided in me that she was the single most lovely creature he had ever laid eyes upon? Any man would make such a claim. There was nothing there to give foundation to my suspicions.

Except that I could hear their thoughts.

My ambiguity on the subject of my _'gift' _had vanished. I was certain now that it was a curse. If I hadn't been able to hear their thoughts, then I would be able to force myself into believing that nothing was happening between them. I would be ignorant and happy because of it. Instead I could hear every thought as it occurred to them and consequently, I knew exactly about the regard they were coming to feel for one another.

I got up abruptly from the windowsill, tired of looking at the world when I could be out in it. Besides, my parents deserved some privacy as someone had once informed me.

* * *

The outside world, albeit our yard, was a beautiful welcome from the confines of the house interior. I looked up at the stars, the ones visible from beneath the gentle clouds, and counted them in my head, able to name them all by now.

_She _wasn't anywhere nearby, I was given that much at least. Another sniff and I was certain that Emmett too wasn't anywhere around. That worried me, more so than the automatic suspicion that rattled me. Emmett was a week-old newborn, he shouldn't be hunting alone.

Unless he wasn't hunting alone. Maybe Rosalie had taken him hunting, with her.

I felt inconsolably lonely, pathetic even. Every time I came to a decision that would solve this - I was forced to remember what I had done to her, how I had hit her across the face. I could see how she looked at me, the sound of her voice when she forbade me from ever speaking to her again.

What could I say to that? How could I beg for forgiveness? I had seen into her mind endless times, I knew the first thing Royce King did was hit her before pushing her to the ground - what was wrong with me?

I blew air through my teeth, wholly frustrated in every sense of the word. What _was_ wrong with me? Why was I doing this to myself? To her?

There were faint traces of her scent everywhere, too faint to alert me to her actual presence - simple evidence that she had, a few hours ago, been here. His too, that bothered me of course. That they had been alone, out here together. I remembered when the night had belonged to us, especially beautiful nights like this. We had been together and the world had dissolved into a secondary backdrop. Such memories were a thing of the past now; I had seen to that. She had already found someone else to share such nights with and what was I supposed to do?

"Pathetic," I muttered to myself. There was a faint glinting a few hundred yards away, something twinkling in the moonlight that didn't belong there. I crossed the distance in two seconds and knelt down to see what it was.

Four of Rosalie's rings, cracked and bent, lay on the grass. She had broken her rings again - something that occurred sometimes if she allowed her emotions to overwhelm her. I wondered what had triggered it this time.

I intended to leave them there, to walk away - but of course I didn't. I picked one up and took it with me, clinging onto it hard while wondering how it had gotten to be like this; when my life could be made marginally better by clinging pieces of something she had destroyed.

"Pathetic indeed."

* * *

Hours passed, time was always so strange to me. I felt as if I could physically reach out and touch it sometimes. I had wandered unconsciously into the woods, trying to find more than solitude. The trees were of little comfort, the moon in the sky reflected the sun's light in cold, white beams - uncaring for my troubles.

I heard them before I even caught their scent.

"…can't do this," Emmett was saying. "Please."

"Trust me," she said in a soothing voice that sent unwanted shivers up and down my spine. "Nothing bad will happen."

They were far away enough that they couldn't have sensed my presence, but the trees and surrounding mountains were carrying their voices to my already hyper-sensitive ears.

"But what if I…?"

"I won't let that happen. Now stay still and let me do this."

The conversation was strange; extremely so. I ground my teeth nonetheless, not liking the direction the admittedly weird exchange was taking. Stay still and let her do what?

I moved closer, careful not make too much noise. I strained to hear more.

"There now," Rosalie said sounding satisfied. "Can you smell anything?"

_What?_

"No. But I still don't see how…"

"Shhh," she said gently and I somehow _knew _that she had put her index finger to his lips to silence him. "You'll be able to hear everything and you won't be able to smell them. It's as safe as I can make it, but you still have to promise me you won't tell anyone. Especially not Carlisle. He would consider it the very deepest stupidity to put you in a situation like this, no matter how justifiable the cause."

He sounded unconvinced, but agreed anyway. "Alright."

"Show me where it is."

They were moving, not too fast which meant that their destination was close by. I followed as stealthily as possible - completely ignoring the voice in my head, screaming at me that I was following them; spying on them.

As they moved, I could catch snippets of their thoughts and blurred images through their mind's eye. They ran through trees and woods, past a small creek and when they stopped, there were lights ahead. A large cabin, or perhaps a small house. Emmett recognised it; his home.

And then I understood the plan. Rosalie was right - it was unforgivably stupid.

I fully intended to interrupt them and put a stop to this insanity when she spoke again and I could only listen in anticipation.

"Can you smell anything?"

I could see through her eyes, some strong smelling leaves up Emmett's nose as he shook his head, doubt in his eyes.

"No."

"Excellent. Now you stay here, understand? Stay here."

I was amazed, frozen to the spot as I understood more fully what her plan was. She wasn't taking him with her, she retained that much sanity. But she was going inside to see his family.

Why?

He watched her walk up the porch and to the door, he shuffled backwards into the pitch black woods and amongst the trees so he wouldn't be seen. She knocked gently on the door and waited patiently. It was opened by a woman.

"Yes?" she croaked. Behind her and young girl peered over her mother's shoulder. Emmett's thought's jarred - one of his many sisters; Sarah. "Can I help you?"

Rosalie smiled easily. "Yes, I'm so sorry to disturb you like this but I'm afraid it's quite urgent. May I come inside?"

"Is it about my Emmett?" the mother asked, worry and despair tightening her face. "Do you know what happened to him?"

"Yes I do, may I come in?"

"Oh yes, sorry. Of course, please come in!" The woman stepped aside to make way for Rosalie who walked inside and the sister, Sarah, closed the door behind her. It was late so the rest of Emmett's sisters were undoubtedly asleep. His mind was a wide open book - he knew why his mother and sister were still awake at such a late hour…they were worrying. Discussing their futures, what had become of Emmett. It was only then that I noticed Rosalie was carrying a leather bag.

The time for lurking had passed.

I ran towards them, Rosalie was inside the house now - she wouldn't catch my scent and what did it matter if she did? What she was doing was madness and I had to intercede, for their sakes if not my own.

Emmett spun around upon hearing my arrival and before I knew what had happened, he slammed me into the ground. I was almost winded.

"Oh God!" he hissed to himself. "Sorry, sorry!" He helped me up in one swift yank and I was upright again. "What're you doing here?"

I glared at him. "I might ask you something similar!"

He looked down, sheepishly. I couldn't really stay angry at him - especially not when his nose was stuffed with mint leaves. "I tried to say no, but it was my fault really - not hers!"

I shook my head in disgust. "Don't defend her. I know how _persuasive_ she can be. What the hell is happening here?"

"She's talking to my mother," he admitted, looking at the window, from which soft yellow light was steadily flowing.

"About what?"

"Me."

"Saying what?"

"I'm not sure exactly. She said to trust her."

"That was my first mistake," I muttered. "Stay there." I walked gently towards the house, the crunch of juicy grass beneath my shoes. I heard voices, Rosalie's was most distinct.

"…feel terrible for not telling you sooner, but as I said it is entirely my fault."

Emmett's mother gave a shaky laugh. "Well…we're just relieved he's alive."

"We thought the worst," the sister said, her voice hollow with guilt.

"As would anyone, these woods are very dangerous," Rosalie said. "And he sends you all his love from overseas. He made me promise to come and see you all, to tell you how much he loves you all and, of course, to give you this."

Something was put down upon the table and then opened. The leather bag. Emmett's family gasped.

"What…?"

"As I said, this is for you and your family. A reward for your son's bravery."

"We can't accept that!"

"Of course you can," Rosalie stated calmly. "He saved my life. If he hadn't been there, that monstrous bear would gave mauled me to death - by intervening he saved me, and almost lost his own life in the process. My father insisted that he be sent away for the best possible medical treatment and that your family be taken care of accordingly. This is yours by all rights. You must be very proud of him."

"Well of course I am, he's always been such a good boy," Mrs McCarthy's voice caught and broke into a sob. "But I just can't believe all this…it's ….my boy!"

"When will he be coming back?" Sarah asked, quietly.

"I cannot say. My father said it may be many years before he is healed sufficiently. But he will be in the best of care and well looked after. We consider him a part of the family, really."

"But he's only been with you a little over a week."

Rosalie laughed once, a soft little admission of something she was about to say. "I confess myself eager to consider him something more than family. Your son is truly special, someone I look forward to having in my life."

There was the sound of a chair scraping on the stone floor. Someone had stood up. "Ma, this can't be real," Sarah said sharply. "This lady's taken a shine to Emmett, shows up here with all this money? It's just not real, Ma…it can't be!"

"Calm down, honey."

"No I won't calm down! No offence Ma'am, but you're a little too stately to be thinking of my brother as family. No I'm sorry Ma, it's too much to swallow!"

"Why?" Rosalie asked, perfectly polite. "Because of social boundaries? Class? I can promise you that I would never allow my feelings to be interfered with by something so insignificant as status. We are all people, are we not?"

"You're tellin' me that a lady like you is interested in my brother?"

"In every definition of the word… yes. Now please, I cannot stay. This money is yours and your son will be given every possible attention. I am sorry, once again for not coming sooner. I wish you all the best."

More chair scraping. Rosalie had obviously decided to cut her losses before the overly observant sister found more holes in the story. Emmett's mother was thanking her as they walked to the door. She hugged Rosalie once before she left.

The door had barely closed behind her, when she looked up sharply and then scowled silently into the darkness. She continued to walk away from the house and into the woods.

"Thank you," Emmett gushed the moment she was far enough away. "Thank you so much."

"It was my pleasure," she said, managing to completely ignore me. "You should know that we're leaving a few days and this will be the last time that you'll see them."

Emmett nodded gravely. "I understand. It's easier now, knowing they'll be alright."

She smiled at him and then finally, upon deciding that it couldn't continue in front of Emmett, turned to face me.

"In the area, Edward?" she asked, her voice deceptively neutral.

"How could you be so stupid?" I breathed. We were looking at each other; something that hadn't occurred in many days. Her eyes were fierce, protective and at the forefront of her mind; the memory of me hitting her. "How could you risk that happening? He could have killed his own family!"

"There was no chance of it! We are not all as weak for the bloodlust as you are, Edward!" she retorted coolly. "He couldn't even smell them!"

"And could he taste the air? Don't you ever _think_?"

That stunned her for a moment, it had very clearly _not_ occurred to her at all. Emmett looked back and forth between us, wearing a confused frown. He didn't seem to understand the hostility between us; previous to this moment we had maintained a very civil façade that had fooled even Carlisle and Esme. It was fading fast, the anger eating through it like acid.

She glanced at Emmett, a flash of regret briefly visible on her divine features.

"I didn't…nothing happened," she muttered. "I would have stopped him."

I crossed my arms in disgust, fully able to imagine her holding him back - the both of them locked in a desperate embrace; their faces too close, too much heat…

"I don't doubt."

"Um," Emmett interceded, a small laugh of nervousness in his voice. "Maybe we should leave?"

Rosalie and I were still glaring furiously at one another. "Yes," she said icily. "We should."

And the three of us ran through the night.

* * *

More time passed. I began to wonder if this was some strange method of hell, administered only to those who were alone in the world. When I was with _her_, time had flown by. Now each moment ached and creaked as it expired, instantly replaced with another. An endless stream of time and nothing to fill it but bad memories.

The human terminology would have been depression.

I was, much akin to _her_, a masterful liar. Esme did not think anything was wrong, she smiled at us all the same as she made the new house beautiful and individual. Carlisle was a little harder to fool. I had been forced to admit some small, insignificant weaknesses instead of the bigger problems. This had satisfied him sufficiently and his concern for me lessened as the weeks melted into months and it had somehow become summer.

Ironically, the one real lifeline during this time was Emmett. He very quickly became like a brother to me and although he had no idea about what occurred between Rosalie and I, we often talked. He was the sort of person who listened to problems in a detached, un-horrified sort of way and would then smile, playfully punch my shoulder and tell me to stop being so melancholy. Only he didn't quite phrase it like that.

I knew he was right. I was determinedly driving myself into the ground, making myself insane with this obsessive darkness and gloom. Pining for something I had _purposefully_ lost - for someone I had told in no uncertain terms that we would never be together and that was that. Emmett would ask me what was wrong, and I would say that I felt empty. He would tilt his head at me, bemused and then shrug; saying that I needed to stop wishing for things I couldn't have. He thought, of course, that I was brooding about my lost mortality and such things. He had no idea that I craved the woman he was falling in love with.

Which was the worst part.

He _was_ falling in love with her. I had to hear it every single day.

This was the only downside of the newly found camaraderie with Emmett; he trusted me enough to talk to me in return. He told me _everything_. Things I didn't necessarily want to know, things that should have been private but he wasn't a private sort of man. I had asked him once, why he was being so open with me.

"_Like I could hide it anyway," he had laughed. "Mind reader."_

I had scowled then and resigned myself to it. I was doomed to an eternity of listening to him thinking the things that I shouldn't be thinking, but was. A thousand lifetimes of his adoration for her, his increasing reverence. Unprecedented levels of bitterness were choking my every unnecessary, instinctive breath.

And there was Rosalie. Rosalie who acted as if I didn't really exist. Rosalie who smiled and laughed with Emmett. Rosalie who had learned to speak Vietnamese so she could think in a foreign language. Rosalie who was in my every thought, my every fiber, my every breath. Rosalie who was driving me mad. Rosalie who despised me. Rosalie who was terrified of falling in love with Emmett. Rosalie who I adored. Rosalie. Rosalie. _Rosalie…_

She had been wrong. We _were_ demons. Capricious, spiteful, cruel, painful, messy demons who destroyed each other's lives. Creatures that drank one another's ecstasy and joy, while screaming in delight and fury.

"Hey!"

An alarmingly strong '_WHACK'_ around my head brought me hurtling back to reality. I blinked, my head still vibrating slightly.

"Wake up," Emmett suggested cheerfully. "We're goin' hunting."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Carlisle was a few feet behind us, we were approaching the woods. I had been walking the entire time, taken over by automatic motor functions. How strange.

Emmett removed his shirt completely, flinging it with excellent aim up in a tree. The area in which we now resided was far less populated. The house was situated well, in the centre of a particularly thick forest. A beautiful house, built in a massive clearing. This had been necessary for Emmett, who's resilience against the draw of human blood had not been tested, but was a question mark nonetheless.

"Carlisle," he said, gently rolling his eyes. "You really don't need to come."

Carlisle's expression remained steady, perhaps considering Emmett's request. I knew he retained some small measure of worry about his restraint, but at the same time wanted to give Emmett a chance to be experience a little more freedom.

"Maybe, if Edward goes with you."

"Of course!" Emmett boomed, slapping me on the shoulder again. I felt sorry for my shoulder, it received copious amounts of attention. "Come on, bro!"

I was also adjusting to the whole '_bro'_ thing. Emmett had a way of speaking that was impossibly endearing; so different to the cadences and expressions that we all used, but still charming.

Rosalie looked on doubtfully, sitting on the outer stone circle of our large, beautiful pond, in the centre of which a majestic fountain trickled and gushed water. She was watching Emmett with a small sense of worry; even though I couldn't understand her thoughts - the shape of them was familiar. Something, she thought, wasn't right. She didn't want to let him go with me; she was afraid something bad would happen.

"Are you sure?" I double checked with Carlisle, unable to shake the contagious aftertaste of Rosalie's concern. "He's still newborn, after all."

"You'll be with him, just don't let him out of your sight."

I promised that I wouldn't, and we went together into the woods.

* * *

And that was when it happened. Or, more accurately, when I _let_ it happen. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that no matter what everyone would tell me; it was completely and utterly my fault. I would feel that blame and guilt as if it had been who killed the young girl, rather than Emmett.

I hadn't been quick enough - I hadn't paid enough attention and a poor young girl, wandering through the forests had paid the price for my stupidity.

She was already dead by the time I managed to wrench him off, screaming and sobbing but still desperately trying to get to her. Sweet, fresh blood - as creamy and delicious as fresh baked pastries or golden, warm honey - was all over his mouth and hands. It stopped pouring from her wounds; the heart failed to push it through her body. She was gone.

I struggled to hold him back, make him stay still long enough to get control over his senses. He fought against me; he was incredibly strong and I almost lost grip four times, only managing to regain control by slamming my elbow into his face; something I could see he bore me no resentment for.

In a way, I was glad he was still struggling. It was a barely sufficient distraction from the overwhelming, mouth-watering taste that filled my mouth and set my throat in a rage. His strength began to falter and I could pull him away a little. He continued to resist, thrashing around violently to get free of the restraint - but his determination had lost something now and I could see the sheer horror and despair weakening him.

I held my breath so I couldn't taste the young girl's blood, but Emmett had no such expertise and he continued to sob, taking in ragged heavy breaths. I wanted to tell him not to breathe, but I couldn't speak.

I didn't know how long we had been like this; struggling fiercely in broken despair. It might have been hours - time was no friend of mine. But eventually, his tremendous strength dissolved into defeated, dry tears and rough gasps of air. He fell down to the ground, unable to wrench his eyes off the poor, little girl and I knelt in front of him, trying to block his view. He looked right through me, as if he still saw her.

"No," he cried, barely audible over his trembling voice. "No, no, no, no."

"I'm sorry," I said, exhaling a little, unable to speak without tasting the horribly delicious scent on the air. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, every feature overflowing with sorrow and revulsion. "You didn't do it."

"I shouldn't have let you out of my sight. This is my fault. Emmett, look at me…_my fault!"_

But I could see that no matter what I said, he wasn't going to accept it. "I…killed her. She just…I didn't even know she was a child until you pulled me away. Something took over…I can't…"

"Don't," I begged him, putting my hand on his shoulder. "We've all been through it. All of us."

His eyes met mine for the first time. "You?"

"Yes, I've killed people."

He looked back in the direction where the dead child lay. "Not a little girl."

"No, but I understand."

He nodded shakily. "I know. I know you do."

We said nothing for little while, both of us on the dirt and mulch of the woodland grounds. He stared into space a little more until he was calm enough to form solid thoughts.

'_Murderer…disgusting, evil….murderer…'_

I shook my head. "It's not like that. You can't help it. I shouldn't have agreed to come without Carlisle."

He looked at me and I was taken aback by the amount of sadness and despair in his eyes, it was heartbreaking. "I killed a child." His voice broke on the word '_child_'.

"You didn't mean to." What else could I say?

"I never got it until now. Why you were all so careful…why you worried about me hunting…I get it now. Jesus Christ, I understand it now."

I hated seeing him like this - I wanted to lie to him, make him feel better somehow. But I couldn't. There was nothing I could do and he knew it as well as I did. He looked like he wanted to be sick; I didn't blame him.

"We should go back," he said almost silently.

"We don't have to," I offered, knowing it wasn't really true. Carlisle needed to know right away. "If you want some more time."

He laughed bitterly and I watched as the laugh turned into another dry sob. "Why? So I can stay here with her?"

I pulled him sharply forward into an enveloping hug. He clung to me desperately; a strange embrace, but a deeply necessary one. We were tied together in guilt - equal counterparts in this girl's death. It was my fault anyway, if I had been paying attention - I could have gotten there before him. She might still be alive.

By the time we got home, it was night. We had been there longer than I thought. Emmett was still covered in blood, I had smears of it too; along my jawbone, my cheek, some on my hands.

A lot on my hands, actually.

I hugged him once more, before we went inside. He walked beside me, like a strange sort of ghost. It would be a long time before we had dealt with this; listening to his thoughts was unbearable - a stream of self hatred and disgust. The unwanted, but equally unstoppable, memory of how her blood had tasted, kept sneaking into his thoughts, teasing him cruelly.

Before we made it to the second floor, we were immediately accosted. Carlisle took one look at us and his eyes darkened instantly. He knew. Esme was upon us both, hugging us and telling us how worried she had been. She took a large step back when she saw or scented the blood. She glanced at her husband and then back at us, her eyes swimming with pity. For _us. _Pity for us.

I didn't even see Rosalie; all I saw was a red and gold blur and then tremendous, echoing pain reverberated through my skull, trembling my vision. She was screaming at me so loud it hurt my eardrums, using words I didn't even know she knew. She screamed in one endless, breathless tirade of absolute fury; it was my fault, she knew this would happen, I was careless, I had let him do it, how could I do it?

Carlisle pulled her back, away from me and Emmett was pleading with her not to blame me. It was his fault, he promised. Not mine - I had tried to stop him but he was too strong.

I turned away, my throat horribly stuck.

Esme took over pulling Rosalie away, her strong arms wrapped around her waist as she yanked her back from me. Emmett joined in and Carlisle took me by the elbow and pulled me in another direction. I followed him numbly; my thoughts dull with shock. Her screams faded, but did not cease. Only when Carlisle closed the door to the east wing did I feel any measure of silence.

I didn't want silence. Silence would be filled by thoughts and memories and voices; the strangled scream of that poor, nameless girl.

"How bad is it?" he asked me quietly, sitting me down sternly on a chair. Clearly a strange formality. We didn't need to sit down - we could stand comfortably for as long as time would endure.

I swallowed. "Bad."

"Who was it?"

"A child," I croaked. "Little girl."

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

'_Damnit Edward, how did this happen?'_

"I don't know. He was there…and then he was gone. I didn't even smell her."

'_How did he smell her before you?'_

"He was too far away. I shouldn't have let him go so far. I was distracted…I….it was my fault. Rosalie's right."

He sighed with frustration. "Rosalie's opinion is a little too biased to be deemed '_right' _about anything concerning Emmett. It is a tragic accident, Edward. Very tragic, but an accident all the same."

I couldn't believe how blasé he was being. A young girl, someone's daughter, was lying in the woods; cold and dead. Dead because of my stupidity; dead because I had let her die.

"How is he?" Carlisle asked gently.

"How do you think? He's broken apart with it."

A very small part of Carlisle was grateful that he was. I didn't raise any objection to it; I understood why. If Emmett hadn't been broken apart, torn into by grief and guilt - it meant that he couldn't stay with us. It meant he would do it again.

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "I foresee much struggle with this. We'll have to move again, obviously."

"You think he will be tempted again?" I asked doubtfully. I didn't think he would. Carlisle hadn't been there with him, sobbing and defeated. He hadn't seen his face; his eyes, his mind.

"I think this incident had set us down a rocky path," he admitted. "We will all have to help him." He gave me a fleeting look.

I blinked in surprise. "You imply that I wouldn't otherwise?"

"Edward, I know of your hesitation to be near Rosalie. Emmett will turn to her during this; they'll be close."

The impact of that hit me hard. So it wasn't just my rabid imagination; other people noticed it too. This made it insufferably worse.

"I suppose he will," I said slowly. "But that would never preclude me from helping him."

We surveyed each other then; I knew he was waiting for me to break and admit that something was wrong, seriously wrong and that it involved Rosalie.

But he would be in for a long wait.

"Should I leave?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He frowned. "Of course not. Why would you even think such a thing?"

"I think she might rip my throat out the next time she sees me. That can't be productive."

He laughed a little at my dark humour. "She'll calm down. Give her time."

I stood up from the chair, smiling wryly. "She's welcome to it."

*

_A/N - Thanks again for reading you guys, you're all magical and beautiful. Even more so if you REVIEW! X X X_

Bex

x x x x


	16. Chapter 16: Ravages of Spirit

-**Chapter Sixteen: Ravages of Spirit- **

**-Rosalie-**

By the time Esme had calmed me down, as only she knew how to do, I had to stop breathing because it really wasn't helping. Every breath I drew in (purely habit by this point to keep my senses alert) seemed to fan the flames of my intense fury. Emmett knelt in front of me as I sat on the chair, my hands in his as he pleaded with me not to blame Edward. This didn't help as I'm sure he intended it; I wanted _him _to blame Edward so I didn't have to.

"Please," he begged brokenly. "Please don't blame him. It was my fault, he tried to stop me and I was too strong."

"She knows that," Esme said soothingly stroking my hair, pleading with her eyes. "Don't you dear?"

I nodded, but turned away. I wanted them to let me go so I could have my chance to lash out at him. I liked that I had an excuse to do so. I liked, in a very dark manner, that I had some measure of justification to hurt him. _Hurt him_. Yes, that was without a shadow of a doubt what I wanted to do in those moments. I couldn't even force myself to believe that was all on Emmett's behalf; there was little room for self deceit when one lived with a mind reader, I had grown used it by now.

The truth was, I knew it wasn't Edward's fault and although I was still angry that he had let Emmett kill someone; it wasn't the reason why I wanted to tear into him.

It felt _good _to do that. Months of forced smiles and small talk in front of everyone else, all the feelings I had for him forcibly suppressed into nothingness and forever thinking in some Godforsaken language just to retain some small measure of privacy - it was beyond toleration. It felt inexplicably cathartic to hit him and hurt him and scream at him so loud it made my skin crawl.

It was something I didn't want to relinquish.

And when we were fighting (albeit very one-sidedly) he was looking _right at me_. He didn't look casually through me, or politely at some other part of my face except my eyes. He looked at me and saw me and it really was _me_ and not some well-mannered façade.

Emmett put his bloody hand to my cheek, yanking me from a dangerous train of thought. "Please, Rose," he implored. "_Please_."

I realised sharply how selfish I was being. How Emmett was on the floor begging me not to blame Edward, holding my hand and stroking my face as if I were the one enduring this crisis.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately. "God, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," he promised me, stroking my cheek. "Just calm down."

"No, I'm being selfish," I insisted, not wanting him to forgive my egocentricity so quickly. "I shouldn't be doing this, not after what happened to you!"

He spoke gently, his eyes were so steady. "Hey, you don't apologise to me. You saved me, you don't apologise. Never."

Why was he being so nice? Couldn't he see how selfish I was? How self-centred and conceited I was? His kindness almost stung; I was not ignorant of my vices.

"But…" I tried to protest.

He shook his head, silencing me. "No. Not going to hear it. Now, have you calmed down?"

I laughed a little, bemused by his kindness. I - with all my precious memories - could not recall having ever encountered anyone like this; so kind and steady. Even Carlisle had a slight edge to his kindness, tainted and marred only by the extreme guilt and responsibility for the creation of his family.

"I fear you are too generous," I whispered, feeling his fingertips trace down my cheek in such a way that my breath actually caught in my throat.

Perhaps the intensity with which I spoke made Esme leave. Maybe she wanted us to be alone, maybe she was worried about her husband, maybe she was going to pack our valuable, precious things away for when we would - inevitably - move. It didn't matter, all that mattered was that she kissed us both and left us alone, closing the door behind her.

We were in Emmett's room; a place I had never been inside of until now. It was very similar to mine, only a little more bare. Emmett was someone who enjoyed the outdoors more then confines of a room; someone who would rather be running and climbing trees, than staying inside and listening to the echo of their own thoughts. There were books scattered on the bed though, I was slightly ashamed to be surprised. He followed my gaze and laughed.

"Shocked that I can read?" he teased me gently. I met his eyes and his smile faltered ever so slightly.

"No," I lied flawlessly. "I just didn't think you were a fan of Alighieri."

"I wasn't," he admitted gently. "Until I started reading it."

"You really are quite amazing." He looked away to the side and I wished I hadn't said anything. _Stupid, so stupid Rosalie!_ "I'm sorry!" I hastened to add.

His smile returned, slightly sarcastic. "I thought we'd covered this; no apologising, Miss Hale."

I laughed properly for the first time in so long and the furious anger seemed to soften, if only slightly.

"I'm afraid your prohibition is somewhat unsuitable for me. Apologies are a necessity when you cause as much trouble as I do."

He shook his head wonderingly, his hand still on my cheek. "Nothing you could ever do would require you to apologise."

'_If only you knew…'_ I thought to myself; powerfully relieved that it was a private thought and I didn't have to cultivate it for his benefit. But his innocence to my nature was worrying. There were pedestals and then there were _pedestals_.

"You don't know me," I said after a small beat of hesitation. I put my hand over his, strangely warm, and after a few seconds took it away from my face. He didn't seem perturbed or offended. I wondered if I was perhaps dreaming - what had been happening just minutes before? Hadn't he killed someone? It seemed like he had forgotten all about it.

"I know you better than you think I do," he challenged gently.

I was intrigued despite myself and the situation. "Oh really?"

He smiled and went on. "You love beautiful things; aesthetics matter to you. You prefer night to day, but it's not new - you always have. You like tragic books, stories that would make other people cry. You lie really well. I watch you sometimes, I see how you smile when you lie; the right side of your mouth curls up just a little bit before the left." He stopped for a moment, looking a little unsure if he should say the next thing. I wanted to encourage him, but couldn't think of how to do so without sounding incredibly big-headed. "And…there's something between you and Edward."

I hadn't expected that. At all. I managed to control my face perfectly; I knew I had given nothing away, but I didn't know if I could lie to him now.

"What do you mean, '_Something'_?" I enquired carefully.

"I mean you two pretend to be alright, but there's this…icy cold hostility between you. It's like you really hate each other, but you love Carlisle and Esme so much that you pretend not to."

We looked at one another; in fact I was certain we hadn't looked away since we had been in this room.

I expected him to question me about Edward, but he didn't. He continued to note his observations. "I know that you're scared to be close to me. I know that something bad happened to you in your old life and you're wary of me because of that. You're guarded and careful; intelligent and I think there's a bit of a dark side in there too."

He seemed to have finished; I was speechless. What could I possibly say to that?

"You've spoken to Carlisle?" I finally managed.

"I asked a little, but he said I should wait for you to tell me in your own time."

"You want to know how I died?" I asked, sounding strangely hollow.

A small frown of concern creased his perfect, angelic face. "I want you to _want_ to tell me, when you're ready to."

There was something underlying that; a very strong and not entirely subtle double entendre. _"…__when you__'re ready…"_

"Listen," I said with intent resolve "This is not about me. As much as I might want to indulge the desire to detract from you…I can't. We have forever to talk about me; this needs dealing with now." He finally looked away from me, avoiding my eyes so I couldn't see whatever had filled them.

"I wasn't…I know I'm responsible," he muttered. I put my hand under his chin and tilted it up.

"It's not like that. I meant, this is about helping you. Not blaming you."

His eyes were so strange to me; I could have written books about them, the most wonderful purple prose and poetry about their colour, depth and the sentiments they invoked; but I didn't want to. Looking into them drove any real articulation and thought away from my mind. The only certainty in them that could be depicted, was that I felt stronger. I wondered if such a sensation was reciprocated in him. This was new; looking into Edward's eyes had always made me feel weaker, as if I were going to collapse or maybe even die from the sheer weight of emotion that raged within. This was so different.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice hoarse. My hand was still on top of his, on my lap and when he ran his index finger along the inside of my palm, up along my middle finger and back around to my wrist; I couldn't move. I didn't _want_ to move or object or do anything.

But there was a voice in my head warning me that this was a dangerous path. I knew this path well, two well trodden roads leading to different destinations; both of which I had visited. Rape or heartbreak. My only two experiences with men and both were almost equally destructive to my soul - the existence of which I had never had such confidence in until these strange, singular moments.

"How did I find you?" he breathed, genuine wonderment in his voice as if actually asking the question. I wanted to point out that I had found _him,_ not the other way around. He was looking at the palm of my hand with fascination, looking at the pale, creamy skin as if it was telling him things he desperately wanted to know.

I smiled helplessly and looked away, despite the growing worry in my mind. This surely wasn't the best time for a moment such a this. "I should find Edward," I said, still smiling a little secretively. "Apologise. If I'm allowed to, of course?"

He laughed and stood up, my hand still in his. I began to wonder if he would ever let it go. His eyes were strangely conflicted; happiness and incredible sadness were battling for possession of this expression. He seemed determined to hide it from me, although why I didn't know. I could feel it coming off him in waves, it was in the very air like the guilty scent all over him. But still he smiled at me and kissed my hand before finally letting it go.

"Apologise to him all you want, _he _doesn't owe you anything."

* * *

As it was, _he _found _me_. I harboured no real intention of making good on my loose promise to Emmett and was, in fact, just desperate to wrench myself from his gaze. My decision to avoid anything remotely like this, was failing. _I _was failing.

I had left the house silently, wandering in the opposite direction from the woods heading towards an old, abandoned church not far from here. It was in crumbling ruins; the glass shattered and gone from the window frames, the ceiling wide open to the stars. I wanted to be alone and I was, foolishly, confident that this was one place he would never come.

Only by the time I got there, it was too late. Situations like this obviously did not encompass alone time. He must have been waiting for me to leave the house, as he knew I would. I didn't know why. He was behind me, not breathing.

"Don't even bother," I recommended coldly. "Just leave."

"We have to talk." His voice sent a shiver down my spine; a deeply unwanted one, an involuntary action against my will. That velvet voice I hadn't heard for so long; the voice he used when we were alone. It brought back a flood of memories, bittersweet and powerful. I looked up at the sky and shook my head.

"No, there is nothing to be said. Leave."

He was directly behind me now; if I moved one step backwards, we would be against one another. I could feel his breath move my hair as he replied.

"I tried to stop him." It was a plea, he wanted me to understand. As if I already didn't; as if I _needed _to understand.

"So I've heard."

He waited and I could almost _feel_ his mind raking over mine; searching for the truth. I forgot that I was supposed to be thinking in another language; I forgot to block him or think of music.

"You don't blame me," he ascertained quickly. "Then why…?"

I spun around, furious. I so wanted my fury to be impervious to the sight of him standing there in the moonlight, so close to me. I wanted it; but it didn't change anything. My breath caught and I was trapped again, as I had been when first we met. Oh well of course! Why wouldn't I remember that right now? Perfect. Just another memory flooding through my mind, for him to see. The night I had first lain eyes upon Edward Cullen; why wouldn't that be a perfect thought for this very moment?

"What don't you understand?" I spat as nastily as I could, trying to shove the memory into the back of my mind where it belonged. "What part of _'never speak to me again' _is too much for your limited comprehension?"

"You have hit me too, Rosalie!" he shot right back. "You know as well as I do that it didn't hurt!"

I could only stare at him, numbly irate at his insensitivity. "Didn't hurt?" I echoed. "Didn't _hurt_?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Physically, no - of course you're right. It did not hurt _physically._"

His mouth formed a thin, tight line. "And what do you think _you_ have done to me, if not hurt me? Are we not creatures of reciprocity?"

"Stop this!" I warned, in no mood to start an exchange like this. "Stop it now."

"Stop what? You expect this to continue for all time? Cool civility and manners? It makes me sick!"

"And your proposition to remedy it is to what? Follow me? Invade my privacy? You'll never change!"

"Do you love him?"

I blinked, shocked. "What?"

He stared at me with a frightening intensity, his eyes were so dark. "Do you?"

I felt vaguely tired, defeated even. "What do you expect me to say, Edward?"

"The truth. As always, Miss Hale. I know you would never spare my feeling."

"The truth is that I don't know. I don't know him well enough and to be honest I'm not eager to rush into anything even if I did." I sounded foreign, worn and jaded to my own ears.

"Because of me?" Barely even audible among the gentle night wind.

The ever astounding ego. "A little. Mainly Royce, mainly me."

"He loves you." It was more of an accusation than a statement, as if it were my own, purposeful doing.

I shook my head, my own emotions betraying my composure. "Why are you doing this? What can you possibly have to gain? Let's face it, Edward - together we do nothing but create pain and destruction. Together, we hurt each other. Together we make mess; terrible, devastating mess. Why are you pressing this? Why can't you let it go? Why can't you just let me hate you?"

"I know you hate me…" he began, but my anger cut him off and he took half a step backwards.

"No you don't! I don't hate you; that's the whole damned problem! I _want_ a reason to hate you! It's so simple to hate you, I can't let that go! Don't make me let that go!"

He looked in pain; I wondered if I looked the same. The unreality of the situation was preventing awareness of my own facial expressions. "Do you love him?"

"Why do you care? You're the one who told me it would never happen again!"

"We've both said that so much I can't even remember who said it last. What does it matter? What does any of it matter?"

"It matters because I don't like who I am when I'm with you!"

He put his hands over his face and I had genuinely bite down the urge to move forwards and take him in my arms.

"I can't…it's just too much."

"I know, that's why we can't do it. That's why it has to be like this!"

He looked back up at me, deep shadows under his eyes. "What about with him?"

"Yes," I admitted. "I like who I am when he's near. I feel stronger."

He closed the space between us and I thought for one fluid, uncontrollable moment that he was going to kiss me. But he didn't; he took one of my hands gently in his and placed it on his chest.

"This," he said solemnly. "This can be broken. Remember?" I closed my eyes. Of course I did. "Remember that day? That night?"

"Let it go," I begged him. "Let _me_ go."

He pressed his forehead to mine. "I can't. I don't know how to let you go."

"Please."

"I _love you_, Rose. I love you so much it hurts me in every way possible. Every second of my existence is agony because you're not with me; because you won't look me or speak to me. I love you so much and it's _wrong_ that you're not mine."

I tried to wrench away, but he kept my hand on his still heart. I couldn't pull in any air; I couldn't open my eyes.

"Tell me you love me, Rose," he whispered hoarsely.

"Edward, please," I implored faintly. "_Please._"

"It's not the same now. I do care about them and about him but I can't live like this. If I can't be with you then I'll have to leave. I can't stay and watch you two fall in love, knowing he'll never adore you as much as I do. Don't you know that? No-one will ever love you as much as I do. _Never._"

"If you loved me, you wouldn't put me through this," I tried weakly, but I moved my face closer to his, we were too close; unbearably close. One more inch and we would be kissing; our noses touched and I kept my eyes closed, because if I looked at him it would all be over - months of self restraint and desperate self denial would come crashing down around us and we wouldn't even care.

"I don't just _love you_," his breath grazed over my features, impossibly warm and luscious. "I adore you, I worship you, I _am _you. We're the same soul in two bodies and the word '_love' _falls inadequate to describe what I feel for you."

My throat was stuck, every sensory point in my body was on fire and my mind was swimming. "Please," I repeated, far less urgently this time. "Edward…"

"I know why it failed last time. What we feel…it's not normal. It's too raw, too powerful. It tore us apart, we couldn't control it." His hand was on my neck, slowly moving around to my upper back.

"And it's the same still," I said when my throat unstuck.

"No," he breathed, I knew his lips were millimetres from mine. "It's different now. I will work because of _him_."

That woke me up a little. I opened my eyes and was instantly caught up in his. "What?"

"Emmett. It will work because of Emmett."

"I don't…understand."

"He loves you, you love him. He makes you strong. _This_ won't tear us apart because you'll have him."

"_What_?"

"We won't tear each other apart because you will have him. He'll keep you strong enough. He'll keep us strong."

I pushed him away roughly, feeling suddenly dizzy from loss of contact. "How dare you? You're right, I _do _love him and I would never do that to him!"

"He would never know!"

"I would know! I refuse to sink so low as to indulge in…in…this!"

"You think I want to do that to him? Jesus Christ, Rosalie! I saw the man break apart his soul today! I had to pull him off a little girl! I don't want to hurt him either but I can't live like this!" He pulled me back to him, such feverish desperation in his eyes that I was almost afraid. "I can't live without you!"

"Then…then you have to leave."

I couldn't believe I'd said it. Small tremors of shock rolled over me as my voice replayed over and over in my head.

"You want me to leave?"

My throat was stuck and I didn't trust me own voice; I forced my head into a nod, my eyes so tightly closed even the moon beams didn't penetrate them.

I imagined what he was thinking during that silence; what broken emotions his face was portraying. I imagined how hurt he would look, or how furiously angry. I imagined, rather than facing the truth. I kept my eyes closed and imagined every facet of his face, making him far less magnificent than he really was. I imagined everything that had been before my eyes, until it was gone; replaced by darkness.

And when I opened my eyes, I wished that he would be gone too…….

* * *

_~June 16__th__ 1933~_

_The room swayed with laughter and music, good moods brought on by copious amounts of alcohol and luxury. Satin dresses swayed and moved in time with the songs, everyone's glasses were real crystal and the champagne was golden and crisp; a little bitter for my taste, but I wasn't going to be obstinate about something silly like that. _

_I ran my hand over the material of my dress, at least two sizes too small for comfort, and smiled pleasantly. I noticed that as I did this, as least three young men turned their attention away from their partners and looked at me. The dress was an expensive kind of silk, stunning burgundy red with golden lace. My hair was up high, held with pins that were as agonising as ever; but these were agonies I barely acknowledged anymore. I was much more interested in the party, in who was looking at me; who was whispering about how beautiful I was. _

_As was my mother. _

_She was standing right next to me, but for the way she was speaking I might not have guessed. _

"_My little Rose, she is a wonderful girl!" she sang over everyone else's conversations. "So beautiful and talented!"_

"_Indeed she is, Mrs Hale," Mrs King said fondly, appraising me as if I were a piece of furniture she was considering paying for. "You are blessed to have such a daughter."_

_I bit down on a smile at the obvious double entendre insinuated by Mrs King. My mother smiled along, not having caught it. My father was in the very centre of the room with all the other gentlemen, talking business I supposed. How dull. _

_Then, cutting right across my mother, Mrs Gibson suddenly gasped. "But my dear look! Did I not tell you that they might come tonight?"_

_Although the tone and volume of the room remained exactly the same, a strange focus fell over the occupants, directed at the door. Three people had entered. I didn't bother straining to see; whoever it was would undoubtedly gravitate towards me at some point. _

"_Dr Cullen, oh how handsome he is!" my mother was whispering, perhaps to herself. "And his charming wife!"_

"_Yes, and look! Her brother had accompanied them tonight! What a stunning family they are!" Mrs Gibson managed to get across before my mother could swoon any more. I had heard of the Cullen family, they were not especially well to do; particularly not in comparison to the Kings who were hosting this evening. _

_Everyone was looking at them; this vexed me greatly. I looked in their general direction, but still could not make them out. How tiresome. _

"_Excuse me mother," I said politely, and left my gossiping mother as I headed to find another glass of the bitter champagne, while surreptitiously sneaking a look at the family who had drawn the attention away from me. _

_Even though everyone was looking at them, the crowd still parted for me. Men still excused themselves out of my way, looking a little dazed. Three male waiters rushed to offer me a glass from one of the golden trays. _

_And then I saw them. _

_Dr Cullen was indeed handsome. His flaxen hair was swept back revealing a pale and beautifully chiselled face, with eyes that were full of an unfamiliar kindness. He shook hands with Mr King and his son Royce, who were still there greeting people. His wife was at his side; a nasty stab of jealously dug into my heart, for she was more lovely than I was. Her face, her eyes, her smile; everything about her was absolutely beautiful, outshining me greatly. She too had the same sort of kindness in her eyes which instantly bored me. She was obviously a woman who had little idea of how to use such beauty. _

_Then there was her brother. He was as beautiful as Mrs Cullen was, only in a far more breathtaking sort of way. I could see now why my everyone was whispering. He was beautiful in a way I had never seen in a man. They all were. I was well and truly seconded. Not a good first impression at all. _

_But unlike his sister and brother-in-law, the younger boy did not have the same kindness in his eyes, nor in any part of his demeanour. No indeed, he seemed greatly put out to be in the same room with us. He maintained a polite, but tight smile and his eyes had only flickered around the room once as if that was all that was necessary. Perhaps he thought himself too good for such company. I watched him very carefully as he shook hands with Mr King, and then with Royce. I thought I saw a brief flicker of distaste flash over his face, but it was gone the moment I blinked. They were all dressed well, but not so well that they purposefully drew attention to themselves. They clearly did not need to, such was their innate splendour. _

_I realised all too late that I was standing too close and Mr King had seen me. He smiled at me; a clear invite to join them. _

"_My dear Miss Hale," he said, putting his arm on my shoulder as I joined them. "Allow me to introduce you to the Cullens. This is Dr Carlisle Cullen and his lovely wife, Esme Cullen. This is her brother, Edward Cullen."_

_I smiled beguilingly; mother had always taught me that a polite smile, is an overtly forced one. If one shall smile, then one shall smile well. "A pleasure to meet you all," I said with fantastic authenticity. _

"_This is the Hale's daughter, Rosalie," King said patting my shoulder again. Beside him his son, Royce was biting a fingernail, watching the exchange of rudimentary pleasantries. _

"_How lovely to meet you, Rosalie," Dr Carlisle Cullen said, extending his hand. "I do not believe we have seen you out before, we should certainly have remembered it."_

_The Doctor was generous with his understated compliments, I wondered what was to gain from it. "No indeed," I said, still smiling fully. "I have not long been parted from education."_

_The Doctor and his wife smiled to match my own, except I knew theirs were genuine. "Wonderful. We have heard much of you, from your parents Miss Hale. I am very pleased to have met you at last."_

_So my parents had been bragging again. Probably hoping to sell me off to their snobby, arrogant brother until they learned more of their income. _

_The boy suddenly looked at me, a minute amount of sarcasm in his smile. I smiled at him blithely, as if I was thinking only very happy thoughts. "And I have heard much of you; Rochester has been set alight by news of your talent in the medical field, Dr Cullen. I understand the chief practitioner is offering you a considerable promotion?"_

_The Kings stiffened. I knew this was not information I was supposed to know, and certainly not something I would discuss, but I didn't care. Dr Cullen did not seem fazed, indeed my mild discourtesy seemed to please him greatly. _

"_I have," he confessed. "But I would prefer to remain in contact with the patients."_

'No doubt why my parents are not trying to marry me to your brother then,' _I thought with grim satisfaction. There was little wealth before me; their popularity was based on good breeding and abundant beauty. _

_The boy looked away from me, shaking his head slightly. _

"_Well," Mr King said, sounding a little embarrassed. "Allow me to introduce you to some of the others."_

_Dr Cullen and his wife smiled at me again before following the two King men around the lavish, echoing hall. The brother, Edward, glanced at me once and then away again just as swiftly, before following them. _

_And that moment, right there, was when my first impression of Edward Cullen was born. A self satisfied arrogant snob who had no interest in me whatsoever. _

How wrong I was…..

* * *

**~June 19th 1935~**

…_.._but he wasn't gone. When I opened my eyes, I fully expected him to have left me there; to have done what I asked and fled. But he was still there, staring at me with those eyes that I knew better than my own.

"You thought so little of me," he breathed, shaking his head. "When first we met."

"As did you," I managed, almost sounding in control. "You barely looked at me."

"You were conceited beyond anything I had encountered before," he said, lovingly reaching up to touch my hair. "Arrogant, vain and self centred."

"What a pair we make," I said, much stronger this time and I managed to slap his hand away before it touched my hair, sending shivers down my spine as I knew it would. "Gross imbalance."

"Meaningless words, as always. I care nothing for the past, only for the present; in which you, my darling Rosalie, currently stand."

He had called me '_darling'_, which was desperately unfair. He knew how I felt about endearments and it was a low tactic.

"One you have used on me before," he reminded gently. I was frozen in some awful moratoria; kept rooted to the spot by my own pathetic indecision and faltering will power. "No-one has ever made me feel like that, simply by calling me '_darling'_."

I took a step back and the distance lessened the weakness. "I said go."

"I will not."

I faltered slightly. "What?"

"I know I said I would, but I lied. I will not leave. This is my home also; my family before they were yours. I will not be driven out. I will not leave."

"You mean you will not leave _me!_" I spat, losing all control of my perfectly inhibited emotions. "You will stay and make me suffer as you do!"

He walked into me fluidly, taking my face in his hands. "Neither one of us has to suffer. This is stupid, to hurt one another as much as we do when the answer is blindingly obvious!"

I wanted to scream at him, hurt him again for making me feel like this. But my body was as uncooperative as it had been the night I had died. My mind was slipping helplessly back into more memories of my first encounters with Edward Cullen…

* * *

**~August 31st 1933~**

_Despite the heavy rain and dark skies that afternoon, I was still sent to walk through it in my best dress with my hair all done up. I wondered why, when all I was doing was taking father his lunch to work. It seemed ridiculous, after all - it was only a few streets away and surely the maid could have gone in my place. _

_What was more ridiculous, was that father had forgotten to do so. Fifteen years of the exact same routine every day did not lend credibility to the idea that this was some genuine accident. I had a nagging suspicion that it was all to do with Royce King somehow; that would certainly make sense anyway. I rather wished it didn't have to be today though; my parasol was made for keeping out sunshine, not heavy, thick raindrops. I kept it up though, aware it would be ruined after I returned home. _

_There was no-one on the streets that day, I was alone in my strange journey with the deeply unnecessary package of lunch in hand. I didn't particularly like the idea of my parents scheming together and arranging such an 'accident' so I didn't think too much of it. Instead I thought about what I was going to wear on Friday evening to yet another party. I wondered if Royce King would be there; almost undoubtedly he would be. The Kings were the very pinnacle of the social world and to not invite them anywhere would be a huge mistake. I wondered if that beautiful, but undeniably strange family would be there…the….oh what was it? The Cullens, yes that was it. Would they attend Mr and Mrs Philips house on Friday? I had not seen them since the King's soiree and although the gossip had died down considerably, I was always waiting for them to arrive and outshine me. _

'How strange,' _I mused to myself, carefully avoiding a large puddle. '_To be outshone by a boy.'

_I was so fixated on avoiding puddles that I didn't even see him standing there. I would have walked right past him if he hadn't spoken. _

"_Good afternoon, Miss Hale."_

_I jumped a little, brought sharply back from my reverie only to discover that the occupant of my thoughts had materialised right in front of me. Edward Cullen stood there, soaking wet and as smug as ever. He didn't have an umbrella, or even a thick overcoat. He probably thought colds weren't good enough for him. _

_For some reason, despite the awful weather, he was smiling. Again, not fully smiling as his sister and brother-in-law had been, but still something other than happiness was curling around his mouth. Amusement perhaps? But of course he was amused, I was walking brazenly through the rain with a white paper lunch package in one hand, a flimsy parasol in the other. _

"_Hello again," I said coolly, smiling once and pausing politely. I might have disliked him, but it would be base rudeness to continue walking past him. "Enjoying this beautiful weather?"_

_I cringed inwardly; even despite my obvious sarcasm, I had still referenced the weather. How typical. But why did I even care what he thought of me?_

"_Yes," he admitted casually, looking up into the sky as if it was blue and sunny. The raindrop hit his pale face, sliding down his cheeks and eyelashes. "I confess I enjoy the rain. And you, Miss Hale?"_

"_Taking lunch to my father," I answered him. "He forgot to do so." I only wished I believed myself. _

_He looked down, unsuccessfully hiding a smile. When he looked back up there was blatant derisive amusement drawn all over his face. "Ah yes, Mr Hale works in the bank owned by the Kings, does he not?"_

_I prickled but smiled to hide it. "Indeed he does."_

"_Royce King will undoubtedly be pleased to see you."_

_That rocked me. I didn't even really know what to say to something like that; so forward it was almost rude. I wanted to tell him that lots of men were pleased to see me; that he was the one, strange exception and that I hated him for that. But I was a woman, and I had to smile. _

"_Perhaps," I said with extremely forced sweetness. "And you are wandering aimlessly in the rain, Mr Cullen? No-one to accompany you?"_

_He ran a hand through his dripping wet hair. "No. You and I seem to be the only ones who are brave enough to walk in such a torrent."_

"_Pity," I said, about to say goodbye and be rid of him when a thought occurred to me that had been nagging me for a while. "Perhaps your sister would accompany you next time?"_

_He looked a little confused - the first time I had seen anything but self assured arrogance smother his face - and tilted his head to one side. "Perhaps."_

"_Which reminds me," I went on, shameless about my blatant use of an intervention into my query. "I did have a question for you."_

"_Indeed?" he asked, his face perfectly neutral. _

"_Yes. About your name, actually."_

"_Oh?"_

"_You are Edward Cullen, yes?"_

"_Apparently so."_

"_But you are Esme Cullen's brother?"_

"_Quite clearly."_

"_Then how have you come to be in possession of the name Cullen? Dr Cullen met and married your sister; she took his name. How, may I ask, have you come by it? Unless of course, Dr Cullen took your sister's name instead of retaining his own?"_

_I laughed to myself a little at the end; the very idea was preposterous. I waited for his answer, watching every minute movement of his face and every depth alteration in his eyes. _

"_I think," he said softly. "That Rosalie Hale is more perceptive than anyone gives her credit for. This is town talk, I presume?"_

"_No, only a private observation that I have pondered upon."_

_He laughed to himself in turn. "I am quite amazed that you have had time to think of anyone beside yourself, Miss Hale. I imagine such egocentrism requires heavy maintenance and little time for anything else."_

_No-one had ever spoken to me like that before; I would have been well within my right to slap him, hard. As it was, I realised that I was standing outside in the midst of a thunderstorm politely arguing with a boy who I despised. _

"_A subject in which I am sure you are sufficiently masterful. Good day."_

"_Good day, Miss Hale."_

_We parted ways and I walked through the rain, thinking of Edward Cullen and what I would say to him when next we met. I realised that he hadn't answered my question; I would make him pay for that next time, perhaps even voice my confusion in a more public forum and cause him great discomfort as he struggled to answer in front of everyone. _

_Yes, that would serve him very well indeed. That thought in mind, I trudged onwards towards the bank owned by the Kings and wondered to myself who (apart from my father) would be there to greet me when I arrived. _

* * *

"Why do you do that?" he mused, breathing so close to me that I could literally taste him without touching him. "Why do you remember everything with such ferocity?"

"What does it matter to you?" I demanded, shoving him back again. "Edward Cullen doesn't need to ask questions, does he? He only needs to read your mind!"

"And you think I relish that? You think I enjoy having to hear ever foul, base thought as it crawls through people's minds? I think I would fall in love with the first person I met whose mind was a mystery to me!"

"And mine is not? Of course - what mystery could I possibly have to you? You who knows me best of all; better than even Royce King could lay claim to, were he still alive."

That hurt him, I could feel it. I felt savagely pleased that I was still capable of doing so; yet I hated myself for saying it, when it was something I genuinely didn't mean.

"No-one knows how to hurt me like you do," he said tightly.

"No-one _wants _to hurt you like I do," I corrected him. "Now move and let me go home."

He looked away. "To him?"

"Yes." I put everything I had into that one, all important syllable.

"And what of us? We are to continue existing in this well-mannered charade? Pretending we are civil acquaintances and nothing more?"

"Of course."

"And what if I don't let you?"

I smiled ironically. "I would exhibit little surprise. Men in my life seem to have a habit of keeping me where I do not wish to be, by way of force."

His mouth tightened into a thin line. "You cannot hold that over me forever, Rose. What happened to you was tragic, but it is done with. Men have died, blood has been spilled and your vengeance served. King is dead and you are free of his assault on you. I will not be made to revisit everything he did to you, just so you can have your way."

"Have my way?" I gasped in genuine indignation. "_My way_ is only that I be allowed to leave this place and return home!"

"Without me?"

"_Always_ without you! This will never happen! Accept it!"

I was almost screaming at him now, such was my furious desperation. I knew Emmett was back at the house; he needed me as I needed him. But the way in which Edward needed me was far more urgent and I couldn't deny to myself that I didn't feel the same way for much longer.

"I can't," he said brokenly and his face crumbled. I wanted to close my eyes so I couldn't see it. "Don't make me do this; don't leave me like this. Don't pretend that you feel nothing for me."

I turned away from him again, completely this time. It was too much to see him looking like that and know it was because of me. "Edward," I said through tight lips. "It is only because of how much I feel for you, that this cannot be. I feel too much; it cannot be borne and I have struggled as you have to endure it in it's primitive form, but it cannot be done. I have never felt….this….for anyone. Anything. But you have shown me - as I'm sure I have shown you - that equally, we can hurt each other and that pain is unlike anything else I've ever felt too. The highest highs and the lowest lows were not built to endure eternity."

There was a long silence in which I somehow knew he was wondering how best to phrase the next. "And you think it coincidence that he is brought into our lives? A mediator? Someone who brings balance to this madness, it cannot be coincidence!"

"I will not use him like that. What I feel for him will only grow with time and I could never hurt him. With you, there is no hesitation to do so. But I would rather die than hurt him."

I knew he was breathing through the pain of that statement. "Even so," he went on with difficulty. "He would never know. I could make it so that none of them would know. It could be like before, I don't care if you want to keep it a secret. I don't care if it's once a month; a year, a decade! I'll give you whatever you want, but don't make me live like this! I can't bear what I feel for you unless I can have you close to me. Please. _Please_."

"And when we rip each other apart again?"

"That won't happen," he swore to me fervently. "I would never do such a thing. I could never put you or myself through that again. We can maintain this façade so long as it is exactly that; a façade. A mask for everyone else, which can be discarded when we are alone together." Perhaps he sensed my weakening, because he put his arms around me from behind and I shuddered. He leaned in close and whispered into my ear. "I love you beyond what I ever thought capable, Rosalie. I can't even say how much, there aren't words. Words are for humans, and no human has ever felt this. Let me _show you _how much I love you."

His lips were pressed to my neck and I let my head fall back, the increasing pressure driving all rational thought from my mind. I was slipping back into the divine familiarity and it felt so beyond _good_. When he bit gently on my skin I reached up and put my hand to his face, drinking in the feeling of his skin. His scent was all around me, I was dizzy with it. He tightened his grip around my waist and it drove any lingering hesitations from me. I spun around and grabbed his face, slamming my own mouth to his and everything bad between us was rent apart.

We kissed with unadulterated desperation, pulling at one another to get more contact, our hands greedy for the feel of skin. I tore off his shirt and I felt the seams of my own tear apart, the material instantly replaced by his mouth as he trailed kisses down my neck, my collarbone and the centre of my chest. That wasn't good enough; I needed him to be kissing me. He brought his mouth back to mine and we resumed trying to devour one another. I pulled his body into mine and was rewarded with a strangled moan from the base of his throat. I slammed him through the wall of the decimated church and we fell in a tangle of heat to the rocky ground, where rocks crumbled beneath us as we rolled together, still helplessly intertwined; lost in one another.

He was muttering insane words into my mouth when there was finally nothing between us; only skin against skin. Beneath him, I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him into me. He let out a cry and I swallowed mine down; too lost in the incredible sensations thrumming through my entire body, reverberating in my mind like the chimes of a bell.

When he began to move, I couldn't contain it and I didn't even bother to try. I gripped his neck and kept him kissing me, even though he hadn't really stopped. I never wanted it to end, the feel of his muscles moving under my fingers, the taste of him, the sounds he made and the look….dear God…the _look_ in his eyes….

Everything else was melting away in the heat we were creating; nothing mattered, I could only very vaguely remember Emmett and everyone else that I loved. It was as if there was only meant to be Edward and I…lost in this painful bliss; such exquisite release and obsession. Every synonym for 'love' was completely inadequate; every word in every language I knew was laughable in comparison to this…to the way he held onto me, as if I was his anchor to wherever we were going. The way he made me want to implode into a thousand glittering pieces…every nerve and sensory ending in my body was on fire; screaming with pleasure and gratification that I had long denied myself.

It was more than that; more than simple pleasure and ecstasy, more than trembling bliss and pulsating delight. He was Edward and I was Rosalie and we were _made _to be like this…made to do this…made for each other. The simplicity of it was jarring.

The moment I thought it, he cried out again - it might have even been words, but I was in no fit state to hear them. I wrapped myself tighter around him and felt the coiling tension building in my chest; intensifying to the point where my immortal body felt it couldn't contain it any longer. An explosion burst inside of me; that wordless feeling so beyond any other phenomenon I had ever experienced, even death, filled me up and rocked over every part of me. I was almost deaf to his cries above me, the shudders of his own body as his head dropped down and he kissed me, shaking all over.

I waited for the almost unbearable waves to diminish; I maintained my grip on him, unwilling to let that go. My eyesight returned to normal, I could see him again. I almost laughed; he was so painfully beautiful and the way he was looking at me made my chest ache. I reached up to smooth the hair out of his eyes and saw that I was shaking too. I didn't even know vampires could do that and I didn't really care.

"My Rose," he breathed in an unstable voice. "_My _Rosalie."

My throat unstuck and I could speak again; but no words came to mind. I didn't know what to say and I was sure anything I did say wouldn't possible reflect how I felt. I didn't have to say anything, anyway. He knew how I felt.

I could see the sky behind him, the moon and stars looking down at us. I wondered if they were judging us, judging _me_?

"Don't," he whispered, his breath playing across my face. "We can deal with anything that comes. I promise. Just don't think of it right now."

And for once in my life, I listened to his advice. I didn't remember anything; I didn't worry about anything. I just lay there him in trembling amazement and unparalleled afterglow and basked in the moments that slowly passed us by - for once, grateful that they moved so slow.

* * *

_A.N - This chapter was extra long because it took so long to update and also because I kept trying to end it, but it didn't want to end! I swear these two characters are beyond stubborn. Anywho, I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. I want to give massive thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, you're all absolute darlings and I love you endlessly. Also, I FINALLY have my own laptop back which means....'S' key! Yay! So happy to have something as simple as an 'S' key! SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! Woot! Anyway, I'll work hard on the next one which - yeah, you guessed it - means some complications for Edward and Rosalie. Sigh. But it's all good. x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x_


	17. Chapter 17: The Art of Deception

**

* * *

****-Chapter Seventeen: The Art of Deception-**

**-Edward-**

I watched her very closely as she attempted to get dressed again. I had given up with my shirt; it was torn to shreds and in no way re-usable. Rosalie's clothes were in similar condition, but she wasn't angry about it. In fact, her thoughts were strangely calm and happy. An unusual observation to have come from the mind of Rosalie Hale.

"I think I might have to climb up the side of the house," she laughed, finally tossing the ragged tatters of silk aside. "It certainly wouldn't do for me to walk in wearing this."

I crawled across the dirty floor, over chunks of stone we had crushed to sand, and picked up what had previously been a beautiful dress; now reduced to rags. She was still laughing when she reached over and caught my chin with her hand so she could kiss me. The laughter reverberated down my spine and I kissed her back with barely contained intensity. It kept doing that; springing out of nowhere. We kept thinking it was over and done with, but every time we touched; there it was again. That same uncontrollable heat and desire. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed herself to me, one leg curling around the back of my thigh.

"Rose," I murmured against her lips. "We need to get back."

"Who cares?" she mumbled defiantly, still kissing me. "Let's stay here. We can say we were fighting."

"It'll be dawn soon," I managed, trying and failing to untangle myself from her - an especially difficult task when every primal fibre in my body was screaming at me not to. "We can't walk home naked in the sunlight."

She didn't have an answer to that, but she quite plainly just didn't care. She didn't relinquish her hold on me and I couldn't stop kissing her.

I tried to slow my mind down until it was capable of rational thought. "They'll…come…looking for….us," I managed between kisses.

That worked. Her mind jarred slightly and she could envisage Emmett finding us here; Carlisle or Esme stumbling across us.

With extreme reluctance, she pulled away and I was pleased to see that she looked exactly the way I felt. Her hair was messy and full of dust and dirt. She was still completely naked, now bathed in the light of the moon. I had never seen anything like it; in all our time together, she had never looked like this. I thought I might go blind if I stared at her too long.

"You're right," she conceded grudgingly. "We should go now."

It took all my will power not to throw caution to the winds and kiss her again, but I managed to pull on my trousers (what remained of them) and make something out of what was left of Rosalie's garments for her to wear. We both looked like people who had survived an animal attack. Rosalie thought of the same thing and her mind then instantly went onto the subject of Emmett. I wished it had been a little less soon for her to begin contemplating such a matter. It was different for me, of course; Rosalie was the _only _person I loved and could ever imagine loving. Nothing was more simple, nothing was more concrete than that fact. I tried to imagine falling in love with someone else, but the idea was laughable. She was _everything_ and it was as simple as that. I knew that now with unbreakable certainty.

"Are you ready?" I asked her, knowing full well that she wasn't.

"Yes," she lied beautifully. I loved that she still lied to me even though she knew I was aware of it. "Are you?"

"Not at all," I admitted. "It's going to be almost unbearable; seeing you and not being able to touch you."

Her face softened a little and she wrapped her fingers around mine, holding tight. "Can you do this?"

Could I? Could I watch her grow closer to Emmett in front of everyone? Could I treat her with cool civility and skin-deep amicability? Could I contain myself and control what I felt for her?

What choice did I have? If I couldn't, then one of us would have to leave and never see the other again. That simply wasn't an option.

"I can do this," I told her and myself. "I can do this." We were too close again; her body heat flowing through my hand, making me dizzy with desire.

She felt it too, because she pulled away and withdrew the contact. "We have to be so careful, Edward," she begged me. "They can never know. Never."

"I know," I promised solemnly. "They never will. I swear to you, Rose. They'll never know."

We stood up, she was nodding. "Good. Good." I knew what she thinking; if we kissed it would start all over again, and if we did that then we'd have to walk through the sunlight - but another part of her, almost equally strong, was dismissing all rationality and demanding that we kiss again. She was fighting it best she could, as was I.

I took a deep breath; inhaling her scent fully while I still had the chance to. "Shall we, then?"

*

Five weeks passed with impressive speed. Every waking day, which I had not slept through, felt like it was the day after what had happened between us. Every day felt that like day was yesterday. I could still feel her touch, taste her in my mouth. It felt like we had never parted; like we were still connected. Every single moment we had together was almost as if we were touching - even though we could not. Whenever no-one was looking, we would look at each other and I would feel it all over again. The heat, the electricity; the sheer, undiluted adoration that I felt for her - it all came over me in again, washing through my system; driving me deeper in love with her than I had thought humanly possible.

But we weren't human, were we? So the limitations of 'humanly possible' did not apply, and I was beginning to fully understand that.

We were creatures able to love one another so fully, that there were not words to describe it. It wasn't mutual affection, passion or even wild, driven lust. No. It was so much more; more than I could even begin to think of, because my mind couldn't process it. She wasn't an obsession; she was simply _everything. _I could pretend so easily now, because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was mine and whatever she was doing with Emmett didn't even come close to what we had. I didn't even feel that jealous as I watched them grow closer; when we were alone, I could look into her eyes and feel the lightning strike and know it was all real. Not one sided; fully and utterly reciprocated. We were each other's everything and it all finally made sense. Why we had hurt one another so much, why we had struggled with, why it had originally failed.

It was because we had assumed it was something we could control; something akin to what we had felt when we were human. Nothing could have been further from the truth. There were no words to describe it and when I tried, it sounded trite and clichéd in my own mind. I didn't bother anymore, I just existed in the life I had been given, waiting for those rare and precious moments when we could look into one another.

Perhaps it was because of this, that I was beginning to lose touch. Maybe it was this that caused Carlisle to take me hunting, alone in the new forest surrounding our renovated and much extended cabin in which we now resided. That had been Emmett's decision; the avoid human contact for a little while and no-one minded being cut off for the next few years.

Now we were alone; I had barely even noticed how strange it was for us to hunt together, without Emmett. He said my name in such a manner that it made me look up from the warm, inviting blood of the animal I had just taken down.

I wiped my mouth and looked at my father figure. It took me a moment to latch onto his thoughts. I _had_ been detached, not to see this coming.

"Yes?" I asked, almost quaintly. I didn't need to enquire as what was coming next, but it was basic politeness and a desire to stall.

"Does he know?"

His face said everything it needed to; louder volumes than his mind. I wanted to so badly to play innocent and be outraged at what he was suggesting, but my gift had meant that I could never do that with anyone.

"You're wrong," I said in a serious, strong voice. "Very, very wrong. I can see now why you would think that, but before you allow your suspicions to go on any further, please hear me out."

But Carlisle shook his head, looking to the side and away from me. "Edward," he said through firm lips. "Don't."

And for all my brilliant lies and articulation, he could still slay me with two words. The fear that he was somehow disappointed in me was crippling; seconded only by the idea of breaking my promise to Rosalie. I knew exactly what he thought and why he thought it; my engrossment in her had made me careless. I hadn't noticed his suspicion growing.

"You're wrong. I can explain it perfectly, and I should have done so sooner but I confess myself ashamed."

He was weighing up my words, detecting the levels of my voice and tone. Checking if I was lying. He knew I would try to lie my way out of this; it disappointed him.

I hid the pain of that away and focused on the task at hand. "Let me tell you why."

He looked back at me, striking me with his eyes. I had never been afraid of Carlisle, even when I was dying and he was telling me all of what I would become. I had loved Carlisle from the very beginning in ways that I wouldn't have been able to vocalise or even admit when I was human, because men did not love other men; regardless of what it stemmed from. For many years it had only been him and me; alone together with nothing but what was left of our souls and our existentialism. He had taught me everything good that I believed in; he had saved me, shown me that it was possible to exist such as we were without taking human life. I looked up to him in all things.

Now I was afraid. He was angry with me and it pained him to be so.

"What are you going to say, Edward?" he said tightly. "Are you going to tell me that you and Rose were arguing? That the reason your scent was all over her and vice versa was because you were fighting? How are you going to convince me that there is a logical explanation for the fact that you both tried to cover this up by bathing in the same lake; by burning your torn clothes? What do you have to say to me to convince me that you are not betraying Emmett?"

It hurt him to say it to me as much as it hurt me to hear it. A small part of me wanted to fall down to my knees and beg him to forgive me; I wanted to tell him everything and be done with it, ready to be judged by the one man I would willingly offer myself to for judgement.

But I had sworn to her that no-one would ever know.

"Exactly what you just said. Everything you said is true and the only reason we hid it from you is because we knew you would never believe us." I was trembling, but prayed to any God listening that he wouldn't see it. I didn't have time to make a believable lie on the spot; I would have to fall back on convincing him.

"Oh Edward, do not make this worse for yourself!"

"This is exactly why we didn't tell you," I went on, putting my hand to my face. "Because it is so ridiculously obvious and stupid. Of _course_ you wouldn't believe that; I wouldn't believe it. I don't blame you if you don't believe me now, but it is the truth of the matter. Unfortunately, there's more to it than that."

Yes, I would have to admit some small crime of guilt to make this passable. Oh God I didn't want to, I didn't want to see his face and hear his mind when he lost all faith in me.

"Oh?"

"She went away from the house that night before we left and I, ignoring your advice, followed her. I had to make her see that I hadn't meant to let that happen to him. She was furious and we _did _fight. I mostly let her hit me, but….out of instinct…I hit her back once." Carlisle closed his eyes and I tried to block out what he was thinking of me. I swallowed a big lump and went on. "She was so angry that she brought up everything that had happened; she was so cruel and I…I said cruel things to her too." At this point, I didn't have to fake the self loathing I still felt for what I had done to her that terrible day. "I don't know how long it went on for, but we just kept saying those things until there was nothing left to say."

He opened his eyes. "And then?"

"And then we talked, instead of screamed. We talked for hours, until daylight was near. I can't explain it but…things are better between us now. I mean, I'm not saying we'll ever be close but I think we got all the anger and hatred out of the way, for the next hundred years at least. She told me how much she loves Emmett; I told her how he felt about her - I know I shouldn't have, but I just wanted them to be happy. I think they will be happy together."

I finished it there, before I went on too long. The truth was, I could lie about this easily forever because even though it hurt to lie to Carlisle; lying for her was nothing at all. I knew without a doubt that she would lie for me too.

He didn't say anything for a while, four minutes at least. I knew, with a massive surge of relief, where his mind was heading. Then, very unexpectedly, he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into a hug.

"Oh my son," he said and I hugged him back. "I'm not disappointed in you. I'm just sorry for you that you had to go through this. You and poor Rosalie."

Well of course he would feel more sorry for her. He loved her dearly and took great responsibility for her. "Please don't be so kind, I deserve your censure."

He shook his head and let me go. "No. You have suffered and you have done what is right. Anyone can see that they are made for each other, and if you have helped that at all; then I have no doubt that you are a good person."

I wished that he was angry again, almost. His restored faith in me was like a knife in my ribs. My lie had worked all too well, and he believed it fully. I had deceived him; Carlisle, who meant so much to me.

"Yes," I said mechanically. "They are made for each other." It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, because I knew how untrue it was. "Anyway, I apologise to you for the deception but we knew how it would be interpreted if we told you outright. Rosalie _(I got chills just saying her name)_ didn't want to do anything that might jeopardise her relationship with Emmett. He has needed her greatly in these past weeks as we knew he would."

Hand on my shoulder, Carlisle observed me with a strange look in his eyes. I could never recall my own father looking at me like that. It might have been pride. His mind confirmed it.

'_I__'__m proud of you, son.__'_

The knife twisted again and I felt a nasty bubble of self loathing swell up inside of me. I hated lying to him so much that it physically hurt. I hated lying to them all, in fact. Especially Emmett who so blindly trusted us both. Even Esme, who would sit sometimes and watch Rosalie and Emmett's interactions with a small pang of regret; thinking to herself how certain she was that Rosalie would have been perfect for me.

If only she knew how right she was.

"Thank you," I managed, feeling unnaturally cold.

"I just…I don't know why you stare at her," he said very quietly.

"What?" I hadn't seen that coming in time.

"I've seen you staring at her, Edward. Staring with such intensity that it might burn all the way through her. Why?"

I thought very quickly about how best to answer this. "Because," I said with a sigh. "I suppose in some ways I miss her. In some small way, I'm jealous of what they have with one another and I wonder sometimes why it didn't happen for us?"

He nodded, accepting that as the truth. "I know," he said comfortingly. "I know it's hard for you, to always be the one on the outside. But you will find your soul mate; as we have found ours."

His promise was supposed to bring me comfort, but instead it drove a little wedge in to the untouchable certainty that had protected me all this time. _Was_ Emmett her soul mate? No-one who saw them together would deny otherwise, even though I knew they had yet to even kiss. They shared a closeness, an evenness and balance that outshone even the natural love of Carlisle and Esme. Up until now, I had been perfectly fine with it. I loved Emmett as I loved any member of our strange little family; I wanted him to be happy, but now Carlisle's intended reassurance was more of a concern than anything else.

I decided, as we walked home, that I would have to speak to her.

Tonight.

* * *

I looked at myself in the mirror for quite a while until I felt I was ready. It took a long time to work out exactly what face to pull, exactly what my eyes ought to say. Deception was more toil than I had ever thought it could be. I waited until the new moon was high in the sky, perched on wispy clouds, and then I went into the living room.

I had grown used to seeing them together and it hadn't really hurt until now. It wasn't a great pain, more like an ice cold splinter in my chest; just fracturing my ability to breathe. They were sitting on the beautiful chez lounge together. Well no, sitting wasn't accurate. Emmett was sitting upright, reading a book but Rosalie was sprawled across him, lying with her head on his left thigh reading a book of her own. They looked the very picture of comfortable; completely open with each other, no falseness or uneasiness.

They had both sensed my arrival; the patterns in their minds altered to encompass the extra company.

Emmett stopped concentrating on his book, something Rosalie had recommended he read. I knew from his thoughts earlier that he wasn't enjoying it much, but was giving it a chance simply because she liked it. Jonathon Swift's _'__Gulliver__'__s Travels_'.

'_Oh thank God, a distraction!__'_he thought at me, _'__You__'__ve never been more welcome!__'_

Rosalie had sensed me coming for a while, she was only partially rereading _'__Dante__'__s Divine Comedy__'_, once again only because it was something Emmett had been reading. They already their own charming little mannerisms.

The splinter grew slightly in scale.

'_You need to talk, don__'__t you?__'_ she thought, completely non-reactive on the outside. She didn't even look up. _'__Someone knows? Carlisle knows? You have to get Emmett out, don__'__t you? Talk about how lovely it is outside, make him want to hunt__…__but of course that__'__s why you__'__re here, you__'__ve already thought of that.__'_

It was very hard not to react to either of their internal statements; I felt like some kind of cursed secret keeper.

"Good evening," I said with false cheer.

They both looked up and smiled. Emmett very quickly put his book down, but waiting for Rosalie to sit completely up before he moved.

"Hey," he said, smiling at me. He obviously caught the scent of fresh blood on me because he glanced at the window. "You've been hunting?"

"Yes," I said, picking up the cover of his book with false interest. "It's a truly beautiful night outside. How can you stay inside and read?"

He looked longingly outside again. Perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult.

"It is nice," he said, his tone belying just how much I knew he really wanted to be outside. "You should have told me you were hunting, I would have gone!"

"Feeling left out?" I teased. His eyes flashed and he grinned. I knew what to expect next; well worn routine had given me that much of a warning.

He tackled me to ground, even though I was ready for him I couldn't compete with such overwhelming strength. He wrestled me down, pinning my arm behind my back in a way that would have shattered a human body, but only sufficed to make my shoulder twinge in pain.

"Ow!" I yelped playfully. I could have thrown him off if I wanted to, but he would have gone flying out of the window and I didn't think Esme would appreciate that too much. "Alright!"

He chuckled and released the momentous amount of pressure. My arm socket righted itself and Rosalie sighed impatiently, tapping her heel on the beautifully polished wooden floor. "Such children."

Emmett was by her side before I was even upright again. He stood behind her, one arm resting on her shoulder casually. "What d'you think, Rose?" he asked, breathless with childish excitement. "We could take him, right?"

I had to laugh. "When Esme needs the cabin demolished, we'll put that theory to the test. Until then, you can just carry on with your little book."

It worked much better than it should have, but Emmett was impossibly trusting. The very idea that he would have to stay inside all night, reading a long, gruelling book while the adventures of the darkness passed him by, was too much for him to tolerate.

"You coming?" he asked me, punching my shoulder yet again.

"I've already been," I pointed out. "Carlisle will go with you if you want. He didn't really have a lot of luck last time."

"The deer probably saw you coming," he laughed. "Alright then. Rose?"

She smiled lovingly and shook her head. A few strands of loose hair fell down around her face as she did so. I had never seen her in such comfortable apparel, nor with such a relaxed hairstyle. "Not tonight. Besides, you really are hungry. You know if I go, you won't concentrate properly."

This was true. Around Rosalie, Emmett's hunting skills took a turn for the worst. Being with her when she hunted was…distracting…for him, putting it politely.

He admitted defeat, and after kissing her hand (and _'__playfully__'_punching me again) he left us alone to seek out Carlisle and Esme as a hunting companion.

I waited until we saw all three of them head off into the woods together before I turned back around to look at her. I had barely made it 180 degrees before she slammed into me, nearly throwing me completely out of the window.

She grabbed my face and crushed her lips to mine, kissing me with sheer ferocity. I returned the kiss, pulling her to me. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist; her hands in my hair drew me deeper into her mouth.

There was no comparison for it; I had never even heard of such unadulterated impropriety, never imagined that anything could tear through me and leave such a wake of impossibly delicious flames. I couldn't even think; I could only surrender myself to it and give in.

We fell to the floor, hard. I think I heard something crack beneath us - maybe the floorboards, who knew or cared? She ripped my shirt apart as if it was tissue paper and ran her hands over my bare chest, up my shoulder and around my neck as she curled her arms around me; trying to physically meld our bodies together into one whole being. I kissed her deeper and she moaned into my mouth, sending uncontrollable shivers all the way down my spine. Her legs tightened around me and I broke the kiss to let out a strangled sort of cry.

I trailed kisses down from her lips, to her neck and all around her collarbone in the way I knew she loved. Her hands were tight in my hair as I dragged my lips to her chest. My fingers were undoing the cords to the front of her clothes, her hands frantically unclasping my belt and in a matter of seconds we would both be naked. A deeply unwelcome thought entered my head.

_Was this what I was supposed to be doing?_

Of course it was. This was _all_ I was ever meant to do. Ever. What else did I need, with any urgency, to do? Nothing. I stopped thinking and continued to unravel the thin silk cords that would allow me to kiss and taste her delicious, pale skin.

_No. You were supposed to be talking to her. They won__'__t be gone long enough for you to do this. They__'__ll know. _

I snarled at myself and Rosalie giggled, little vibrations trilling all over her body. That in itself nearly made me come undone. She was faster than I was; my belt was thrown carelessly across the room. She hooked her thumbs in the outer rim of my trousers and pushed them down.

_You need to stop!_

I was starting to hate myself. This was ridiculous! Who cared about talking? Who cared about Emmett or what anyone else thought? This _had to _happen; nothing in the world was as important or as necessary as this was.

I was on the last segment of the very complicated garment she was wearing. Even in casual wear, Rosalie was still in the utmost of fashion; enough lace and silk cords to tie down a mast.

The voice in my head, for once my _own _voice, sounded calculative.

_She__'__ll hate you. You__'__re breaking your promise. They__'__ll all know._

I looked up, impossibly out of breath.

"What?" she gasped, making me look at her. "What's wrong? Why did you stop?"

"I…we can't." It hurt to even say it.

She shook her head and kicked my own trousers off for me (although how was somehow beyond me). "No. Don't be stupid."

She pulled my face back to hers and kissed me again, locking me in place so I couldn't move. For a few moments I succumbed to it, blissfully out of control of everything but my own very determined motor functions.

_You swore to her_.

I wrenched myself back, this time so hard that I almost flew across the room. In doing so, I had pulled her up to a siting position. She looked a strange mixture of furious and indignant.

"We have to…talk," I panted. Less than two minutes had passed and I was somehow completely naked and extremely out of breath. I had sometimes pondered that, why we got out of breath. I didn't need to breathe at all, but it was always the same. Maybe it was an old human instinct. Maybe I was addicted to her impossibly delicious smell.

Why was I even thinking about that now? I shook my head, trying to clear it. I closed my eyes only for a second and when I opened them she was in front of me again.

"No, we don't," she said firmly and kissed me again with such desperation and inherent fervour that I kissed her back; but only for a moment. I wrenched her away from me, holding her by the wrists.

"Please, Rose," I begged her. "We have to talk. This wasn't why I sent Emmett away. They won't be long and we can't hide this."

"I don't care," she insisted and tried to kiss me again. It took every ounce of resolve I had to keep her back, not to mention every degree of strength. There we were evenly matched. As strong as the other; equally matched in determination, for the time being at least.

"It's about Emmett," I ground out and she let go. I nearly stumbled forward at the sudden loss of counteractive strength, and she caught me in time before I fell.

"What about Emmett?" she asked, seriously out of breath.

I pulled on my trousers, not bothering with the belt and ran a hand through my very messy hair. I was still pulsing with whatever it was that drew us together; too strong to be called desire, too blindingly hot to be called attraction, too powerful to be called love.

"You and him, specifically."

'_You__'__re not jealous, surely?__'_

I flinched slightly; the sensation of having her inside my mind at this time was intensely stimulating, like a pleasing electric shock that resonated in my bones like spinning coins.

"No, but it was something Carlisle said…he found the burned clothes from that night. I told him we fought and he believes me," I rushed to reassure her before she could vocalise her panic. "It is not that. He said something and it…worried me. He said that you and Emmett were soul mates."

"So?" she dismissed, casually. A little too casually, maybe. "And from this you insinuated what?"

"Are you?"

She ran her hand across my face, stopping before my hair with obvious effort and restraint. "It's a little quaint, don't you think? 'Soul Mates'? A very human ideology."

"I know," I agreed. I had already thought that, but it didn't ease the nagging worry in my chest. "But…is that how you feel about him?"

"You promised me you could do this. You know as well as I do that I love him; you know how he feels about me. You know all of this, so why are you asking me?"

"I don't know! I feel like everyone else is seeing something I'm not, they all say you're made for each other!"

"Yes, because they _don__'__t_ see what you do! They don't know what is between us, they never will! I love him, but it doesn't even compare to this! You know that!"

She said it as if were the most simple, obvious thing in the whole world.

I put my hands to my face, a wave of very unsolicited guilt rising up in me like venomous tide. "I feel like we're terrible people," I whispered.

She took my hands in hers and kissed my lips, very softly. "We are."

"But I don't want to be."

"We can't choose who we are, love. If they never know, then we aren't doing them any wrong. I love him; I'll make him happy. There is no possible way we can be apart; it's not something we can control, Edward."

"I know, but…"

'_No. We can__'__t be apart; we can__'__t not be together. This is how it has to be.__'_

I knew she was right. The very thought of not seeing her again was almost blasphemous. Maybe this was how men felt when they found God; when they swore themselves into a religion until the release of death. But no, I was certain that no human could have ever felt this; no human could survive it.

We leant our heads together; I could feel her self-discipline maintaining that she didn't kiss me again. She somehow knew how upset I was, how guilty I felt and she didn't want to make it worse. If I was I pain, she was in pain.

I realised then just how difficult this was really going to be. How impossible it was going to be to get her alone, without Emmett. How would we be able to hide it from Carlisle? How could we bear not being with each other, especially when the need for one another was so utterly suffocating?

"Rose," I breathed, in lieu of _'__I love you__'_or anything else so far from accurately describing my feelings for her. What could I say? I could only hope that knew how I felt, and was not relying on my albeit brilliant, but lacking articulation.

"I know," she whispered, her breath gently playing across my lips. "_I know_."

And it was that simplicity that made me feel that I could do it. That I could bear to watch them grow closer and fall in love, even despite the total insanity that it was to even contemplate such a thing. She did know; she knew how I felt because this - whatever it was - was something we both felt, in total equality. Whatever it was, nameless phenomenon, it would sustain us throughout. It had to, because the idea of living away from her…death would be preferable.

"Just promise me one thing," I said, gently rubbing my nose across her cheek; almost losing my train of thought in the process.

"Anything."

"Promise me that if it gets too hard for you, you'll tell me. Don't pretend everything is alright. Promise that you'll tell me."

She ran her hand up the back of my neck and into my hair and I shuddered.

"Only if you'll promise me the same." Her breath ghosted over my ear and my knees almost gave out.

"I promise."

"Then I promise too."

And by some miracle, we managed to separate and go about the necessity of making everything as it was before; both of us aware that I would _never _be that - as it was before. This path was an irrevocable one and I knew, as I struggled not to touch her, that there was absolutely no going back.

* * *

_A/N - So Happy Valentines Day my wonderful darling readers! As you can probably tell, I had nothing better to do today than write another chapter, so my Valentines day was pretty lonely but...oh well *sigh*. I did have Edward and Rosalie for company who were notably NOT lonely. Anyway, I thought I'd get this done nice and early as a Valentines present for all my lovely readers. It was oddly strange to write, because during the whole course of this chapter - new ideas and revisions were coming to me in floods. I have to admit that this story was never going to go beyond six or seven chapters originally and it was certainly never going to be this involved but as I always say - these are extremely stubborn characters and they've pretty much taken over now. Also a lot of people are asking me to please keep the story in Edward/Rosalie until it's end and, without giving away too much, I will say that that is one of the big changes I have made to the proposed 'ending'. As I say, the idea for this story is based upon canon, but must be acknowledged that both Edward and Rosalie are extremely good liars. I'm now thinking of extending the story into the current 'Twilight' era, but I might have to dismiss Breaking Dawn altogether (sorry, but I REALLY didn't like it) and continue it a few years after...what do you think? Oh I'm rambling now, sorry. All I can say is that while I infered a while ago that it might end up in canon pairings, that's definitely changed now. I was browising on the net the other day and there really are NO Edward/Rosalie fics where they actually end up together! Or if there are, I was blithely unaware of them. So I think I'm going to take the challenge and maybe go for it? Yay? Nay?_

_Anywho...thanks so much for reading, looking forward to your reviews, love you all! x x x x _


	18. Chapter 18: The Prophet of Change

**-Chapter Eighteen: The Prophet of Change- **

…**Thirty Years Later…**

The world was a different place. This particular year had commenced with Lyndon B. Johnson taking oath as President, declaring _"We can never again stand aside, prideful in isolation. Terrific dangers and troubles that we once called "foreign" now constantly live among us.__"_This speech saw to it that by the end of this year, 190,000 American soldiers were battling in the jungles of Vietnam. Malcolm X was shot to death at Harlem rally, causing irrevocable unrest among the nation. The first of the decade's urban race riots began in the Watts district of Los Angeles; this lasted 6 days with 34 people dead, 1,072 injured, and 4,000 arrested. More men were sent up into space and '_The Sound of Music__'_came out as one of the highest grossing films of all time. There was change on the air; revolution among the people of this country and others.

Thirty years had passed and so much had changed.

But of course, not everything changed.

Eight different towns could lay claim to having known the Cullen family, if only for two or three years. Eight different houses had been owned, and transformed, by the Cullens. Eight schools would say they taught the three Cullen teenagers everything they knew. Eight different hospitals would talk about the gorgeous, talented Dr Cullen for years after he was gone. Eight very similar kinds of gossip about the beautiful, but withdrawn family that had come and gone in eight distant small towns.

And in this, the ninth and newest, our story resumes.

* * *

_The lapping water glistened with the reflected light of the moon and of the twinkling stars that shone in the inky blue sky. The air was warm; the breeze was sweet and full of delicious scents. All around was the faint buzz of crickets and the hushing whispers of trees as the soft wind brushed through them. The lake water was clear and dark, it's two occupants kicked gently to stay afloat as they talked in chiming, velvet tones to one another. _

"_It wasn't arrogance; I was being wary!"_

_The stunning blonde girl laughed. "Wary? You made Dorian Grey look humble!"_

_The boy flicked a few wet strands of hair out of his eyes and pretended to look offended. "You were hardly an improvement! Stuck up, vain, conceited and utterly in love with yourself!"_

"_Well you were cold and standoffish, which is by far the heaviest of all crimes!"_

"_It wouldn't have mattered if I had fallen to my knees and recited verse to you; once you caught sight of yourself in that mirror, the real relationship had begun. I would have been nothing but a side dish compared to your unrivalled self-love."_

_The impossibly beautiful girl splashed water at the almost equally stunning boy, who then spat the same lake water at her. She glared murderously and ducked under suddenly and before he even had a chance to do the same, he was yanked unceremoniously under as well. _

_Under the black, cold water the two of them embraced in a strange euphoria and kissed. Being underwater was like being hidden away; the rest of the world was gone, everything beneath was secret and safe. They could have stayed under for hours, days if they had wanted to. But the blonde girl, not to be outdone, kicked upwards and broke the surface, throwing back her hair like some otherworldly mermaid. _

_The boy followed, shoving her playfully. "How long until dawn?"_

_She glanced around, sniffing the air. She could sense when sunrise was near with great precision. "Four hours," she said, swimming over to her entrancing companion and kissing him again. She wrapped her whole body around him and groaned when he did the same. "Can you believe…it's been….thirty years?"_

_He shook his head. "No." It seemed he was too preoccupied by other things to really get back into the conversation of their involved conversation. _

_The painfully beautiful girl laughed again, her hands trailing down his chest. "You said the same thing when it was ten…and then…twenty."_

"_And I'll say it when it's a hundred, two hundred…a thousand," he muttered, kissing her neck. "You can ask the same question a thousand times and I'll never believe it."_

"_Can you believe that after…ahhh….thirty…years….we're still….together?"_

_She seemed to be rapidly losing all ability to speak as her breath quickened and her hands slid up to tangle in her lover's messy, wet hair. _

_He grinned as he gently bit the soft flesh of her ear. "No."_

_The tension broke and all playfulness vanished. A smouldering heat broke out over them and they crushed together, forgetting to kick to stay afloat. They fell beneath the water, no oxygen in their bodies to cause them to resurface. The two strange underwater creatures sank to the bottom of the lake, tightly intertwined and impossibly close. The water all around them acted as a cloak; an alcove of concealment and secrecy…._

"Alice! Alice are you alright?"

The vision dissolved and the real and present world reappeared. Jasper was running his hand down the side of my face, concern filling his faintly scarlet eyes. When I nodded, he seemed a little relieved; he took my hand and held it, waiting for me to tell him what else I had seen.

"Two of the five," I said quietly, taking a breath to regain the certainty of my surroundings. "The married couple, I think. It was dark, I couldn't see properly. They were in the water."

Jasper gave a small sniff of disapproval. I knew he wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea that we were supposed to turn up and simply impose ourselves upon this Cullen family, but he trusted me. We had been searching for almost a year now, and we were beginning to close in on them.

"Please," I said softly. "Don't be like that."

He blinked and smiled at me. "Alice," he said, saying my name like he always did; with such impossible familiarity, as if it had been his first word. "I trust you."

"I know you do," I replied and brought his hand up to kiss it. "And I know this is hard for you."

"Not with you here," he promised me evenly.

We didn't need to say much else; Jasper and I were not people of many words. It was two nights prior to the vision I had just bore witness to. Jasper Whitlock and I were sitting a few feet from our car on a bench that overlooked a lake. The same lake, I realised, as the one I had just seen. The car radio was on, piping out music that drifted into the night air. Jasper pulled me closer to him and held me close, humming along to the tune. The song ended and another one began. It was a song I loved. _'Downtown'_ by Petula Clark.

"Dance with me," I whispered in his ear, and he didn't even hesitate.

* * *

The sun rose at it's own, steady pace and slowly the waters began to give the appearance of warmth. In two days, my vision would fulfil itself; we could simply have waited here for them, but Jasper did not like the idea of intruding or preventing something that was obviously personal to them. He felt awkward enough about the situation, despite my reassurances.

I ran my fingertips down the base of his spine, drawing a shiver from him. I was sitting cross legged behind him; perfectly content to watch him as he gazed out at the water. He turned to face me, catching my eyes immediately and not letting go.

"You think we should look today?" he whispered, scooting around so we were face to face. "Maybe we could wait."

He wanted to postpone it; more time alone. That much was obvious.

"But it's what we're supposed to do," I said simply, lifting his hands in the air and spreading his fingers out with my own so we were palm to palm.

"That could change." He knew the subjectivity of my visions; the complexity of the smallest thing that could easily affect everything. "They might not want us."

"They accept us into their lives; I have seen it."

His fingers curled into the gaps of my own, clasping me gently. "Tell me again."

"They live off of the blood of animals, existing in normal, human society. The youngest three attend school, the leader practises medicine and, with his wife, they live as a family - acting out the roles of their appearance. The blonde girl is married to the bigger one, who loves to hunt and be outside. The other one is alone."

He nodded, absorbing it all again. We had gone over this with some frequency on our travels together. It was one of the first things I said to him, upon meeting him in that half empty diner in Philadelphia.

"_Hello, my name is Alice," I had said very calmly, sitting down at his table. He had started to rise, about to leave when he realised I was like him. He regarded me warily before sitting back down. _

"_Who are you?"_

"_I think that was quite clear," I pointed out evenly. "My name is Alice."_

_He gave me a look that indicated he thought my name did not represent who I was - only what other people called me. After seeing him in my visions so often, I was expecting something a little different. But this was him; flesh and blood and exactly as I had pictured, if different in attitude. _

"_And your name," I went on. "Is Jasper Whitlock. You recently left your friends Charlotte and Peter; you're trying to be different. You don't want to kill humans anymore."_

_He blinked in shock, glancing around the diner to see if anyone was listening to me or the extremely private knowledge I was currently talking about. He narrowed his eyes at me before leaning in. _

"_How do you know all this?"_

"_I saw it," I explained. "I see visions of the future."_

_He was suspicion of me, but before he could voice his suspicions, I spoke over him. "We're going to be together, you and I. We leave here and go to live with another clan; a family who are like us."_

"_Like us?"_

"_They don't kill humans."_

"_And you and I…?"_

"_We'll be together." He didn't react as much as I thought he would have done; considering that I had walked into his life and told him in no uncertain terms that it was all about to change. "Did you want to leave right now?"_

_I knew what he thinking about me, how strange I was and probably quite crazy. But another part of him was weighing up what I had said. His solitude must have been hard to bear, especially in his condition. I had already seen this conversation anyway, I knew that in a matter of moments he would stand up and follow me. _

_And he didn't let me down. _

Nor any moment since then.

"It just seems unnecessary," he said softly, pulling me gently onto his lap. "We're happy together; alone, as we are." A wave of happiness washed over me; as unstoppable as the ocean and as welcome as slipping into a warm bath. Normally he didn't try to sway my feelings, it was one of the first things were discussed when he told me he was in love with me. He knew I hated to be made to feel things that weren't my own and therefore contained his gift most of the time, except on small occasions like this when he would let me feel how happy he felt when we were together. There was one another occasion when I allowed him to do did this; a far more private and intimate occasion when he would show me what he was feeling.

I kissed him, our hands still tied together.

"It's what happens," I told him patiently.

He sighed and nodded, pressing his lips to my nose. "Alright. You know I'll go anywhere with you. If you say it's what happens - then that's what happens."

"I think it's going to be today."

"Well then, I guess we should get going."

He went to stand up, but I held him in place. "I love you," I said, gripping his eyes with mine.

He frowned a little. "You don't have to say it," he said, a little mystified. "You know that."

I laughed. "I know. I just wanted to say it before we go to them."

"If I thought you liked expansive words and long descriptions, I'd sing them to you all day," he said with a wry look in his beautiful eyes. "I'd use every synonym for '_love' _that existed and I'd compare thee to all the summers days that had ever been. But," he said, untangling our hands to he could wrap his arms around me. "My strange, wonderful Alice doesn't like that. Do you?"

I shook my head. "No. I like the way we say it; without words."

"That bodes well. From what you've told me of the blonde one and her husband, I don't think we need to add to the overflowing romance."

* * *

Although by the afternoon time, I knew very well where they were; we didn't actually arrive at their somewhat isolated and very beautiful house until nightfall. This I had done on purpose a little, leading Jasper around the long way as we drove in his car, careful to avoid sharp rays of light. I sang along to the music in the car and he listened to me singing.

By the time it had grown dark, I decided it was time.

"They're on the fringes of the forest; follow this lane," I instructed him.

"I know," he sighed. "I can smell them."

"Then why…?"

"Like I said, Alice; I'll follow _you_."

We drove down the country lane road, a narrow strip of path just wide enough for our car. Above and all around us, trees were leaning in. It was obviously not a commonly used road; that would, of course, be perfect for them.

Jasper rolled his window down a crack. "They've hunted," he ascertained. "A few hours ago. We have timed it well."

"Of course," I said. "Timing is sort of my thing, you know."

We smiled at one another and then the house came into view.

It was easy to see the reparations and changes that had been made in the few years they had lived there. Before that, it seemed to have been a rundown old cottage; abandoned and forgotten because who wanted to live way out here? Now it was a beautiful, upright building with at least two extensions behind it. The glass of the windows was new, it was a different colour; a slightly warm cream colour and roses were growing all over the veranda. It backed onto more woodland area and at the front, three cars were parked on the gravel leading up the house. One of the cars was bright red and a very expensive model.

Jasper snorted. "The blonde," he guessed quite accurately, even though I hadn't told him that yet.

Before we even had time to park the car, the front door had opened and a man and a woman came out, looking a little wary. The man was their leader; the blonde Doctor. The woman at his side was his wife.

I got out of the car and looked around curiously for the other three. Hunting maybe? "Hello," I said with a pleasant smile. "My name is Alice. This is Jasper."

"Hello," the kind faced Doctor said. "My name is Carlisle, this is my wife Esme."

"Ah," I said happily. "How lovely to finally know your names! I've been concentrating on it so hard, and still never managed to get them."

They looked slightly confused.

"Were you passing through?" Esme asked us kindly.

"No," Jasper said stepping forward to shake hands with Carlisle and his wife.

"We've come here to join you," I said and went around to the a back of the car to get our bags. Mostly, the bags were mine. "Which room can we have?"

"Uhh," Carlisle said, shaking Jasper's hand with a little more confusion that he was currently displaying. "Excuse me?"

"Alice can see the future," Jasper was explaining patiently. "She saw that we come to live with you."

"Oh. Well…uh."

"I've been seeing you all for a year now," I said, slinging the eight bags comfortably over my shoulder and making my way towards the house. Mine and Jasper's new home. "Visions of you all - visions of me and Jasper coming to be with you. This is how it happens, more or less."

"Perhaps we should go inside," said Esme to her husband.

"Where are the others?" I asked interestedly as we entered inside the beautiful, but quite unadorned house. "The married two and the boy with bronze hair?"

"Uhh, Rosalie and Emmett are the married couple; they're hunting right now, they just left. Edward is taking care of some business in town."

"Business?" I asked, chirpily. Putting my bags in the lobby.

"Yes, he's been offered an apprenticeship as an intern at a very prestigious hospital. He's there now, turning it down."

"Of course," Jasper said, nodding. "You don't stay very long in one place, do you?"

"No," Carlisle replied, looking back at me. "Please, you're going to have to explain this all to us a little more."

And so I explained everything to them, as we stood in the lobby together. I explained about my visions, how I had found Jasper and how for months I had seen nothing but visions of us joining them in this very house - only finding it had been somewhat more a task that we originally anticipated. I told them what I had seen of their family; I watched as I gave the evidence that Jasper and I weren't crazy vampires trying to impose ourselves upon them.

"The last vision I had concerning you two," I went on. "Was of Esme trimming roses while you lifted her up on the palm of your hand and she balanced perfectly on one foot. Rosalie was underneath her red car and the other two were hunting. It was raining. It came to pass about four days ago, is that correct?"

I could see now that beneath the shocked silence, belief was stirring. "Yes," Esme said very slowly. "Carlisle, it's incredible. She saw all of that."

Carlisle nodded and Jasper obviously sensed something because he spoke.

"You have doubts," he determined. "Maybe you think that we could have been watching you, to have witnessed such a scene. But Alice can prove this once and for all."

He didn't even need to ask me. "In about thirty seconds, Edward will come through the door and demand who we are and look to you, Carlisle, to explain it. He will ask where Rosalie and…Emmett, yes that's it - he will ask where they are and then he will feel something that will shock him. Jasper's gift, the ability to sway emotions, will jolt him and he will come to stand directly in front of Esme. Rather protective, isn't he?"

My prediction had taken exactly nineteen seconds (I had spoken in patient, slow tones for their sake) to vocalise, which left only another eleven for my guess to become reality.

Right on queue, the door opened and without preamble Edward did exactly as I had said he would.

"Who are they?" he demanded; not exactly impolitely, but still with an edge of insistence in his low, attractive voice. "Carlisle?"

Carlisle and Esme were watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. When no-one spoke, he continued.

"Where are Rosalie and Emmett? Do they….whoa!" He stepped away from us, three steps back with his eyes on Jasper. "What was that?" And finally, he shifted so that Esme was completely obscured by his protective stance.

There might as well have been an imaginary round of applause.

"Applause for what?" he asked, a slight edge to his voice owing to the sudden sense of threat he felt. "What is going on here?"

"Hello, Edward," I said extending my hand. "My name is Alice. This is Jasper. We've come to live with you."

* * *

Almost an hour later, an hour of explanations, and Jasper and I had convinced them that we were indeed telling the truth. We told them everything; Jasper's past, his wish to stop killing humans, my blank void of memory before my eternal life - everything. Rosalie and Emmett had still to join us, but something told me they would be less difficult to persuade of the truth. Interestingly enough, it was the mind reader who we had to work to convince.

"This is all so strange," Esme said, but she sounded quite excited at the prospect of two new additions to her family. "Your gift, in particular, Alice. It's all very intriguing."

"Very much so," Carlisle agreed. "We have no objection to you coming here," he said, looking to at his wife who smiled at me and Jasper with warm welcome. "Do we, Edward?"

Edward was still weighing up the situation it seemed. Reading our minds to search for any signs of foul play.

The room faded away suddenly, replaced by a new scene and my body became very still. The vision swept across my vision; leaving me completely numb to most of my surrounding. I felt Jasper take my hand and mutter words to the other; no doubt explaining what was happening at this very moment.

"Oh!" I said when the vision faded away. "A party! How lovely, thank you so much, Esme."

Everyone looked at the beautiful woman who beamed at me. "Amazing," she said, shaking her head. "Just amazing."

"So how did you come to see that?" Edward asked me directly. There seemed to be something troubling him beneath his amber eyes. "How does it work?"

"I was concentrating on it," I explained. "If I focus on a person or a certain event; I can effectively control what I foresee. I wanted to prove it to you a little further."

"So will you see everything about us all now? Everything we plan to do?"

Jasper took over here. "She can only see what she's concentrating on. For years, Alice longed for a family. She told me it was all she thought about; belonging somewhere with people she loved. That's how she came to have the vision of you, and of me."

But that didn't seem to satisfy Edward. "When else?"

"When something is about to change dramatically. Something new that will affect those she is focusing on. Then she can see things outside of her focus."

Edward nodded, processing this.

"She's been concentrating on you all for some time now, trying to find you. Only last night she foresaw Rosalie and Emmett in the lake together."

Edward's eyes snapped to us both sharply, although he didn't really move. Jasper looked at him with a small frown, as if some confusion had passed between them. What had Jasper felt, I wondered?

"You can see things like that?"

"Only because she was focusing on it," Jasper replied in my stead, still looking at Edward with that same minute suspicious confusion. "Why?"

He crossed his arms. "Because it's private. It's between them, what they plan to do."

"My gift is as involuntary as yours," I pointed out to him. "I will obviously make an effort not to concentrate on anything like that. It's not as if I want to see it."

Everyone laughed, including Edward but it didn't quite touch his eyes. Something was still bothering him, but it was something he wasn't willing to air out in the open. There was an odd sense of friction between Jasper and Edward now; their gifts were quite similar…I wondered if that was why.

There was bang, like a door shutting in the wind, and then a strong male voice called out "Hey, who's car is out front?"

Two new people appeared from behind us; they had come through the back. I saw Emmett first; strongly built, taller than Edward and much friendlier looking. His eyes were the kind that were made to smile and shone when they did. His hair was in curls, a warm chocolaty colour. There were leaves in his hair and a large smear of dirt down the right side of his face. "Who're you?"

One step behind him was Rosalie; every bit as stunning as I had foreseen. She didn't smile like her husband did; on the contrary, she looked at us both a wariness akin to Edward. She glanced at him momentarily and I saw him shake his head minutely. Some small communication had passed between them, obviously.

Jasper stepped forward, hand extended to Emmett. "I'm Jasper," he said as Emmett shook it hard. "This is Alice."

"Hi," Emmett said, looking to Carlisle. "So uh…what's going on? Is there trouble?"

Rosalie smiled to herself; probably at her husband's hopeful tone of voice. Whereas he had leaves in his hair and streaks of dirt on his arms and face; she was pristine. She might well have just walked straight in from Hollywood.

"Are you passing through?" she asked, coming to stand side by side with her husband. "But no, you've brought luggage. You're staying with us?"

"If that's alright," I said smiling at her. She smiled back at me; her smile was disarming, even to me.

"Of course," she said sweetly. "How do you know Carlisle?"

There were seven of us standing in the lobby now; to a human, it might have looked awkward, but in truth we were quite comfortable to stand for days.

"We don't," Jasper said, shaking hands with Rosalie. I adored his determined, if slightly old-fashioned, manners.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh," she said and looked to Carlisle now. "Then…?"

Edward decided to explain it. "Alice can see the future," he said carefully. There was a strange sublevel beneath his words that I felt most of us were missing, but one of them was not. "She foresaw that we were going to be a family together. She and Jasper have been trying to find us for many months now. Jasper has left a very large clan in Mexico to live a life without killing humans. He also has a gift; he can sway emotions."

Emmett grinned widely. "Like?"

Jasper obliged, carefully controlling his gift so that I would remain immune. I noticed the infinitesimal changes in the way they stood; very slight pupil dilations.

"Wow," Emmett said, sounding impressed. "I think you'll come in very handy."

He, Carlisle and Esme all smiled with contained laughter and glanced at Rosalie and Edward who, notably, did not smile at the veiled insinuation of their temper tantrums.

"So you see the future?" Rosalie asked, as Emmett wrapped his arms around her, leaning his chin on her shoulder. "How?"

I rather hoped this would be the last time I would have to explain it to them, although something told me that Edward was going to corner me and delve into the machinations of it. "I see visions of things are going to happen. It's subjective though; the visions can change."

"I see. And you can manipulate people's emotions."

By the way he shifted, I knew Jasper didn't like her choice of the word '_manipulate' _but he answered with perfect politeness. "Yes. I can also sense them."

Another split second glance between Rosalie and Edward. They were obviously the suspicious ones out of the group.

"Well," Esme said, trying with obvious effort to make Rosalie and Edward see sense and desist with their perfect reasonable reservations. "Shall we find you a room that you like?"

And although there were some serious misgivings, particularly on Edwards part, we all went upstairs, bag in tow.

* * *

**-Jasper-**

Even before my transformation into what I was now, and would be forever, I was extremely good at knowing instantly what kind of people I was surrounded by. Personality was my strength; I was promoted on that basis alone, rising quickly through the ranks with little but charisma to back me up. I could also sense what people were feeling. Fear was the easiest; it rolled off of people in waves, standing there - gun in hand, waiting to die. I always knew what to say to make that fear go away. I always knew exactly how to calm them down, get their minds clean and focused on the task ahead…even if their task _was_ to die.

This gift had followed me through death and been magnified, as was the way with most of our kind. I could already knew that Carlisle was a caring man, who's gift was now to withstand blood and help as many as he could in the field of medicine; his wife had an unlimited capacity to love, translated to her adoration of her family which I knew was already extended to Alice and I. Emmett had strong; a hunter or provider for his family, and was now the strongest and most buoyant of them all. Rosalie had clearly been beautiful prior to her death and was now a Goddess incarnate. Perhaps Edward had been unnaturally perceptive as a child, before whatever had happened to him to leave Carlisle with no option but to turn him.

And now, thanks to my gift, I knew that Alice and I had come across a situation within the family more complex and strange than we had anticipated.

The first indication had been when we told Edward of the vision of Rosalie and Emmett in the lake. His whole nervous system had jumped, as if electrocuted and though he maintained his outer façade with almost perfect control, I had felt something run through him. Fear? Perhaps, but Edward was not someone who entertained fear most of the time so it wasn't very clear cut.

Only a few seconds after that; he had obviously heard my thoughts and now looked at me. The fear was palpable now; coming off him in waves that only I could detect. The fear would shift into hostility if I said anything, I knew that much. So I said nothing of the strange fluctuation in what had otherwise been a mildly suspicious and protective vampire.

Then, upon the arrival of Emmett and Rosalie; the fear had spiked again. This time, however, he was ready for it. Reading my mind meant he knew how I could percieve it, and therefore…how he could control it. I still knew it was there, but this time it was strangely behind glass. Visible to me, but without taste or smell or any intricate knowledge.

During the introductions, Rosalie's concern had prickled similarly. The glance between them began to cement my suspicions that whatever was wrong here, involved them.

When she had learned that I could sense emotions as well as manipulate them; she too had clamped down behind the metaphorical version of a glass wall. Their similar actions against my perceptions made me suspicious - something everyone except Alice, Esme and Emmett, were feeling in some measure.

Yet here we were, a month later and everyone seemed very happy. Alice had taken no trouble or time in settling in immediately and even Edward, who had the strongest reservations about the two new arrivals to his life, could not resent Alice. She was the sweetest, strangest creature I had ever been lucky enough to meet and in this opinion, at least, everyone was united.

They lived a very family orientated life; they spoke to each other everyday, they hunted together - they laughed and told stories. They read books, played and wrote music. Rosalie and Alice shared an infatuation for fashion and together they were transforming a room in the house into a walk in wardrobe. Emmett was probably my favourite; his emotions were simple and genuine. When he said he was happy that we were there (admittedly while punching me on the shoulder) he meant it. Behind him, Edward would smile and agree and we would go hunting together but I knew there was something holding him back from saying that with full truth. Something about my gift could not allow him to be fully happy that I was here; especially not coupled with Alice.

I knew to this extent that it was nothing personal; he liked us both very much, increasingly so everyday. But it was Alice's visions and my emotional perception that worried him.

The conclusion was obvious; it was because he had something to hide.

I might have gone to him and confronted him about it, for Alice's sake as well as his. She knew that there was something between us not exactly right and it troubled her. We were all melding into a family with uncommon ease, and Edward and I were the last opposing forces unwilling to capitulate.

As it was, he came to me.

"I think," he said firmly as he walked into mine and Alice's room, closing the door behind him. "That we need to talk."

I had been writing at the time, scrawling down endless words and sentences, all the while letting my mind drift away. As far as I knew, I was the only one who liked to do this. The rest of them were much more concerned about the present or future to be interested in writing; it was also a private thing, so I stopped the moment the door opened and put the paper away in a drawer underneath the desk.

"Yes, we do."

I stood up and we appraised one another. Both able to sense, with albeit unequal accuracy, what the other was thinking and feeling.

"By now," he said very quietly, but with understated significance. "You know about me and Rosalie."

Yes, I knew. It didn't take a genius to sense the immense and overwhelming feelings they felt when doing something as simple as looking at one another. Point of fact, I had _never_ felt such intense emotions between any two beings; even the sensation of dying victims was incomparable to what they felt.

"And you are here to ask me not tell anyone, right?"

"Is that something I would have to convince you of?"

A very mild threat.

"Only if you fail provide an extraordinary rationale." A slight threat of my own in retaliation.

I could sense that he wanted to break through the tension here and just speak to me as he would do were this situation not chaining him to his duty of secret keeper. He chose the less easy route and continued in a quiet, serious voice.

"You can't tell anyone."

I stood my ground. "You can't possibly think you could stop me."

He blew air through his teeth in frustration and swore. "I'm not here for this. I don't want to challenge you or devalue you in any way but you don't understand what the situation is here!"

"So explain it me to then."

When he looked back at me, I knew he was telling the absolute truth.

"What I feel for her," he ground out. "Is completely out of my control."

That much I had suspected. There had been a great amount of resistance; conflict beneath the surface of their smiles whenever they looked at one another. I could well believe that whatever it was between them, was instinctively unstoppable.

"And she feels the same?"

He answer with unconditional certainty; of course he was certain, he could read her mind. "Yes."

I sighed, suddenly feeling a great swell of pity for her Emmett.

Edward started forward, but though better of it. "I know," he groaned. "God, don't you think I feel a million times worse than you can imagine? I love Emmett! He's my brother, we've been through so much together and yet….I can't stop what I feel for her and neither can she. She loves him to death; they're happy together and nothing will ever come between that but….we can't _not_ be like this. Believe me, we've tried over the past thirty years and it is just impossible. She's a part of who I am…she's _everything_."

I closed my eyes, really not wanting him to delve into massive, poetic details.

"And you expect me to say nothing?"

"I'm begging you." That must have hurt. "Please, there's no point in revealing it now. Despite whatever you might think, there's no animosity here. We're family. If you tell him, you'll tear that apart and for what? So he knows the truth about something that happens once a year; that we feel, but suppress?"

"Once a year?"

He looked away, bitterness creeping into his tone. "It's the only time we can be alone. It's what….Alice saw."

"You were the ones in the lake?"

"We were going to be. Once a year, on the anniversary of her death everyone thinks that Rosalie and I go back to her home town at night and I go with her to ensure she is not discovered. No-one suspects, because of the façade we maintain so perfectly. They think I'm the only one level headed enough around her to ensure that she wouldn't be seen. Emmett is, well…less than rationale about her and Carlisle and Esme are well aware of their bias. The ocean or a lake is the only place we can….so they won't know."

I could _feel_ how much it hurt him to admit that to me; to tell me anything about this most secret encounter that had never materialised.

"You couldn't go because of Alice," I said slowly, thinking.

"Of course not."

"So then why have you come? You must know me well enough to know that I do not hold the past against anyone. What's done is done. I will not tell anyone of what used to occur between you and Rosalie, nor will I reveal the feelings that remain. I have witnessed the impressively unbreakable façade you maintain while you endure such emotions - I have no doubt that she loves and adores Emmett. Of course I would not tell anyone. Why would I?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Because it will happen again."

"What?"

"There can never be a last time," he whispered, as if he almost didn't believe it himself. "Not between us. You can't understand, it's….impossible." He chuckled darkly to himself. "Thirty years and still no words to describe it."

"You don't have to," I stated sharply. "You mean to say that you intend to carry on with her…and you want me to keep your secret?"

"Yes."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "You're insane. I'll never do _that_."

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong!"

He walked towards me, a dark and foreboding look in his eyes that was as familiar to me as a mirror. "And you have such a clear, defined line of right and wrong? You and I have very similar gifts, Jasper. Mine is a little more refined than yours. I have seen what you did to hundreds, maybe thousands of people…and I know how good it felt and how much you enjoyed it. More so in the beginning, before their dying emotions began to horrify you…rather than entice you." He shook his head. "_Believe me_, I know. Having to listen to your prey's dying thoughts wasn't exactly a picnic for me either. This is different. You and I know the varying shades of morality and this barely even darkens to a grey! This harms no-one! I would never allow it to!"

"You _know_ it's wrong, otherwise you wouldn't keep it a secret!"

"Please," he said brokenly. "I don't know what else to do."

Nothing was said for a small while, as I tried to think my way out of the quandary he had just launched me into. Quiet observations and suspicions were one thing; being told outright was another. Now I wasn't a dubious onlooker - I was an accomplice. That rattled me sufficiently.

"How do you know Alice hasn't seen this already?"

He took a step back, granting me my personal space once more. "That's another thing I want to talk to you about. Alice's visions."

I turned away, knowing full well where this was going. "You know how they work."

"Yes, but not like you do. You know the loopholes. You know how to get around them," he insisted, slightly frantic - as if he was banking everything on the veracity of his theory.

"I've never had to!" I snarled, quietly.

But damn it, my own mind was betraying me now. Of all the times to be overcome by a fit of nostalgia…with a mind reader standing in front of me, desperate for leverage.

He gasped, having scanned my mind to a satisfactory conclusion. "It can be done!"

"No," I denied. "It can't."

"But you did it!"

"That was only when I first met Alice," I tried to say, knowing that it would have no effect upon his determination. "It was too risky…I'd never do anything like that now."

"I'm not judging you," he promised me solemnly. "We all understand the call of bloodlust…particularly when you can take it from wrongdoers, as you and I have done. Just explain it to me. How did you deceive her?"

"I will not instruct you in doing something so wholly wrong!"

He seemed to sense he was approaching some sort of boundary that, if crossed, would do serious damage to the developing brotherhood between us. Up until now, everything he had said or done was completely forgivable. If he kept pushing this, however, it would be a different story.

"Alright," he said, stepping back again in defeat. "I understand, I'm sorry. I hate this…believe me. I hate having to ask you this…having to come here and be so _pathetic_. But you also have to understand that there is _nothing_ I can do to stop what I feel for her. What we both feel…if we can't consummate it, then it will take over. Like I said, we've tried before and it's nearly cost us everything. Please, please will you think about it?"

"Of course," I said, showing him that I was, at least, sympathetic to his suffering. Suffering which I knew was genuine. "I will."

He closed the door behind him, leaving me with thoughts so dark, they threatened to absorb me so completely.

Even Alice, with her incredible foresight, could not have known just what she dragging us into.

* * *

_A/N - Hello my darling, beautiful readers! This chapter was up early not because I'm on drugs, not because I'm a determined writer...but because I've literally been obsessed with this story non-stop for the last three days. A chapter has never been so easy to write, as this one. Yes it was very different from the norm, but it's necessary for what lies ahead. _

_As to that, I've made my decision - thanks so much to everyone who gave their input and ideas towards the ending (don't worry, not in sight yet) of this story. I obviously can't tell you...muhahahah! But if this obsession continues, then it looks to be pretty goo (hopefully). _

_I'm sure at this point, you can all see how this is going to go. Working with the loose details of the books (thank you Meyer for being so vague!) I can keep the story perfectly in canon, but change it almost completely based on the very secret lives they all lived before and even during Forks. _

_So thanks SO much again, hopefully the obsession with endure and more chapters will be coming at astronomical rates. Looking forward to reviews, love you all! x x x x x x x _


	19. Chapter 19: Hallelujah

**-Chapter Nineteen: Hallelujah-**

_Well Your faith was strong but you needed proof _

_You saw her bathing on the roof _

_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you _

_She tied you to her kitchen chair _

_And she broke your throne and she cut your hair _

_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah _

_Hallelujah…_

_-Leonard Cohen_

*

**-Rosalie-**

With an undeniable amount of morbidity, I dripped the red candle wax onto my hand and watched with dull fascination as it instantly cooled and hardened over my porcelain, icy skin. The room was full of candles. I didn't like to have the lights on when I felt like this, which was increasingly frequent. I was melancholic to the point where I almost wanted to laugh at myself for it.

The mirror was no use to me either; telling me was that someone so beautiful should not capitulate to such ugly, dark musings.

I knew it was bad for me to feel so absurdly resentful against the newcomers in our life, especially when I liked Alice so much. But this was simply one of the aspects of the involvement with Edward, over which I had no control whatsoever.

It shouldn't be like this. I should have been remembering what it had felt like to touch him; to drown in the flood of bliss from something so simple as feeling his lips on mine. We should have been together a month ago…everything would have been fine by now.

But it wasn't. Thirteen long months of having to pretend that I wasn't completely absorbed in him; so beyond in love with him. Thirteen months of not being allowed to touch him. Thirteen months of stolen looks and fleeting glances. Twelve months was tolerable, but thirteen…we had never gone this long without some sort of intimacy. It was grating on me now…I could feel rationality slipping away without his contact to anchor me there. As the minutes dragged on, I began to seriously fear that I would be driven to recklessness and all would be revealed. What was worse, was that I was starting not to care.

If only they had come a week later…everything would be normal by now. I would be curled up with Emmett, laughing and talking to him. I would be able to look at Edward; look at myself.

Instead I was deliberately alone, in a secluded part of the attic; reduced to staring into candle flames and burning myself for the numb thrill and distraction that pain produced.

I was never like this, even when things were bad - and they were sometimes. Being married, even to someone as amazing and wonderful as Emmett was, still had it's share of ups and downs. Particularly during the first five years of our marriage, there had been trials. Emmett was endlessly patient with me and understood almost everything about me; to this end, I acknowledged that the problem wasn't really him at all…it was me. I was impatient and selfish sometimes and it troubled him. His worry made me feel guilty and then I would take that out on him too. The most serious argument in thirty years, had come about because of this. It had occurred in Denali, unsurprisingly enough when I had learned of my limited ability to share.

The Denali sisters had been the problem, of course. I had assumed that I would be perfectly fine with Tanya and her obvious, deeply unsubtle desire for Edward. I had been wrong, however, We stayed only a month; I would have gladly never gone, but during that time we came as dangerously close to being discovered as we ever had.

Emmett was by no means stupid. The simplicity and good nature of his soul meant he was a patient, loving person…not unintelligent. It was after a particularly nasty exchange between Tanya and I (in private, so I thought) that Emmett confronted me and asked me outright about what had been said.

_The look on his face was unbearable. He was in obviously pain, but the anger was distilling it. He tightened his mouth, closed his eyes and asked me __"__Is there something going on between you and Edward?__"__ It came from him so unwillingly, as if asking it challenged everything he held dear. _

_For a fraction of a second, I almost blurted out the truth. I loved him so much that I hated lying to him and it seemed that his anger bore the strength of certainty. If indeed he already knew, what was the point of lying? _

_But my senses returned and I knew he didn__'__t know. He wouldn__'__t be talking to me if he did. He would be having a more wordless conversation with Edward. _

"_Of course not!__"__ I flung back at him, looking revolted and furious. __"__How dare you?__"_

_He frowned. __"__Then why, Rosalie, were you screaming at Tanya?__"_

"_Because she__'__s an underhand, sly little tramp!__"__ I pronounced loudly, not caring in the slightest if she heard. __"__And I know what she says about me behind her back.__"_

"_How can you possibly care what they think? Have you _looked_ in a mirror lately?__"_

_I gritted my teeth and looked down. __"__I just__…__.I don__'__t want her in our family,__"__ I mumbled quietly, as if I was ashamed to admit such a selfish - albeit completely fake - reason. _

"_Why not?__"_

"_Because I don__'__t like her__…__she__'__s abominable!__"_

"_She__'__s perfectly nice, and very good friends with Carlisle,__"__ he pointed out. _

"_Then let her stay friends with Carlisle! I don__'__t want her to be with Edward__…__it means we__'__ll have to live with her, and then see all those nauseating sisters by proxy!__"_

_He opened his arms to me and I walked willingly into him, wrapping myself around his strong, reassuring frame. _

"_And?__"__ he pushed, gently. _

_I sighed. __"__And I don__'__t want her knowing things. Edward was there with me when I died__…__when I took my revenge. He knows a lot about me and__…__I couldn__'__t bear it if he just told her because they were together. He__'__d tell her everything if they were lovers and I don__'__t want anyone knowing outside of our family. I hate her now, but if she knew that__…__.I__'__d hate her even more.__"_

_That would be enough to satisfy him; especially as it was perfectly true. My tremendous jealously aside, I could well imagine her looking at me, while she sat cuddled up with Edward, and knowing all the intimacies of my demise. The very thought of it made my skin crawl. _

"_I__'__m sorry,__"__ he mumbled into my hair. __"__I__'__m so sorry. Please forgive me.__"_

Even now, just remembering it; I wanted to cry. I was a terrible person; I didn't deserve Emmett in the slightest. I didn't deserve happiness or love or anything that I had.

_This_ was all I deserved; purgatory, candles and despair.

It had taken hold of me now. Usually I was able to control it to some small extent, by giving in to it once a year. It had taken us nearly three years to come up with such a sturdy, foolproof excuse for us to be alone and away from the rest of the family. Emmett had completely understood; Carlisle and Esme had been supportive. They trusted us, after all.

Now without the scheduled encounter…it, whatever it was, was growing impatient and angry. I could feel myself becoming more irritable with people, more short tempered than normal. I had lost all interest in hunting and the need for blood was waning. I didn't need blood, I needed _him_.

And now, it looked as though it would never happen again.

My stomach lurched, just thinking it. No. That wasn't a possibility. There couldn't be a _never_. My chest contracted painfully and I placed my trembling hand directly over the flame, letting it burn until it passed point of endurance.

Which was when someone knocked on the door.

I shook myself, completely unprepared for whoever it was, unless it was Edward. Then I was all too prepared…in a way that would doubtlessly wreck everything.

But it wasn't him; it was Jasper.

I managed to smile once before asking "Yes?"

"I thought I would come talk to you," he said, looking around the room with interest. "The beams are quite dry, is it safe for so many candles?"

I wanted to make an extremely snarky comment, involving death by flames, but I swallowed it down and shrugged.

"I was going to ask how you're feeling, but I really don't need to."

"Do you ever?" I asked, idly playing with some blobs of dried wax on the spoiled, wooden floor.

"Sometimes, when feelings are tangled and chaotic."

"And I'm not tangled or chaotic?"

"In many ways yes; in this case, no. I can feel what you're feeling. I could feel it from the woods."

"Wonderful," I said dryly. "A little less privacy in this house - just what I need."

For some unfathomable reason, he sat down beside me and poked at the soft, squishy red wax. "Everyone's worried about you."

"Thank you for that unnecessary observation."

"Emmett especially."

"As well he should be. I'm his wife. Why wouldn't he _especially_ worry about me?" I snapped.

"Rosalie," he said, taking a breath. "Edward came to me a few days ago."

I closed my eyes, already knowing what was coming next. "Oh?"

"He asked me not to tell anyone."

"About what? Did he seduce you? Is it a big secret?" I had no idea why I was being so rude, so recklessly stupid to someone who could potentially ruin my life.

"It's hurting him as much as it's hurting you."

I scathed silently. "I doubt that."

"Just because he's not holed up in the attic, playing with candles, doesn't mean he's not in pain too."

"He's not betraying the person he loves," I spat.

He looked at me. "But that's the problem, isn't it? That you're _not_ betraying him anymore? It can't happen again, because Alice will know."

"You don't understand."

"Believe me; I can feel what you feel, and it's beyond anything I've ever encountered before. I do, if only to some small extent, understand."

A strange, cold pause. "You're going to tell him, aren't you?"

"No. I won't."

"Why not?" I laughed bitterly. "He'll leave me and everyone will hate me and I'll be alone. It's what I deserve."

"I know you don't believe that," he said sternly.

"What do you know? You've been here a month!"

"I know more than anyone thinks I do. I can _feel_ each and every one of you."

Yes he could. He could push as well as pull, though. Unlike Edward, who could only read my mind, not plant thoughts of his own there; Jasper could manipulate feelings.

"Please," I gasped, struck by a feverish desperation. "Make it stop!"

He seemed ready for such a request. "I can't," he said, shaking his head. "Whatever it is…it's too powerful. I have no sway over something like that."

I looked away, bitterly disappointed. "Then what?" I croaked. "What am I supposed to do?"

Very unexpectedly, he put his arm around me and whispered close. "Edward asked me to do something, as well as _not _do something. I've decided, against my better judgement, I'm going to help you."

"What?"

"There _are _ways you can get around Alice's visions. Aspects of things that I realised early on that she's somewhat blind to."

I looked at him; properly looked at him. He was beautiful, of course. We were all beautiful; but in a strange way he was the least beautiful of us all. I could see, with precision, the many tiny scars on his neck and face - invisible to a human, but clear to me. For some reason, I liked him for it.

"Why are you helping me?"

He smiled wryly. "I'd like to pretend that it's because I'm a good person who wants to help you. I'd even like to pretend that I want nothing in return, but we'd both know that's not true."

These were dangerous waters I was wading out into now. I was meddling with things that I knew should be left well alone.

"What do you want in return?"

"Two things. Firstly, I'm helping you for my own sanity. I cannot endure an eternity of _this_. Of feeling you go through _this_. It's unbearable for me as a bystander - it can't go on in such a way. Secondly; I'll keep your secret and help you to do so, in return for you keeping one of mine."

I was full intrigued now, caught in the increasingly tangled web, spun by desires and needs. "Which is?"

There was no shame in his voice, as there would be if it were one of us admitting it. "I _do _want to live a different life," he said bluntly. "But I can't do it all the time. It's too much for me just stop and I don't want to ruin things with Alice or any of you. You're all the kind of people that I want to be surrounded by, but you and I know with equal understanding that you can't just _stop_ because you suddenly feel it's wrong. We can make compromises. You can be with Edward once a year, and I can feed on one murderer or rapist every few months. Carlisle, Esme…Emmett and Alice; they don't understand it. They would condemn us, but we understand what it's like on the other side. Don't we?"

He had clearly thought this through a great deal. Given that Edward had come to him a few days ago, and now that he had made his decision - it was given to me instead. He wasn't sure of Edward, but he knew how desperate I was. He knew I would agree.

"Yes, we do." The unspoken promise lay heavy in the air, like the scent of burning and it lingered on for a while, until I asked him how it could be done.

"How are Alice's visions bypassed?"

"Alice's visions, from what I understand, are premonitions of things that will occur in two categories. One: something she is focusing on, our safety for instance. She looks for any oncoming dangers, the harder she focuses on one thing, the more she looses sight of something else. Two: things that bring about change. Things that will strike the ordinary and transform it."

I nodded, applying it to the current situation. "Change. So she wouldn't see something that has always occurred, or that occurs frequently?"

"No. Why would she need to? Unless it was going to bring about significant change to the ones she loves, then she wouldn't even get wind of it."

I could see where this was going.

"So you think because you have always fed from humans, she won't be able to foresee it?"

"I've done it before," he said flatly. "It works."

"Before or after you fell in love with her?"

He didn't like admitting that, at least. "Both."

"And because she's not focusing on it, that would only aid in hiding it."

"Because I never planned to tell her, nothing would change - there wouldn't be a big fight, she wouldn't leave me. Everything would continue. She's not a lie detector. Believe me, Alice can be lied to."

I didn't like the way he said that and he seemed to realise it.

"Understand that I love her," he said in a low voice. "I adore Alice, I'd die for her in a second. I've never met anyone like her and I'm so in love with her that….it's nothing I ever hoped for. But what most people don't realise is that we have to lie to the ones we love in order to protect them."

He didn't have to convince me of that.

"I know. So you think it will be the same for me and Edward? Because it's something that's been going on for so long and it's a secret - it changes nothing - you think she'll be blind to it?"

"I do."

"And in return, I'm to help you cover your tracks?"

"Yes."

Could I do that? Willingly trade human, albeit criminal, lives in exchange for what I wanted? Needed?

The answer was simple; the rhetorical question was painfully unnecessary.

"Then we have a deal."

He shifted and leaned back to pull something from his pocket. A small, glinting piece of metal with the tiny words 'stainless steel' engraved on it.

"No-one but we three can ever know about it. You swear?"

Wasn't he supposed to be able to feel people's emotions? Didn't he know the ridiculous, terrifying lengths I was prepared to go for in order to be with Edward?

"Yes! Of course yes!"

I held out my palm to him, already knowing what he planned to do.

He cut his hand first; the blood poured slowly from the shallow wound, a little deeper than a paper cut so it would heal fast enough that no-one would notice. I let him cut me and together, we exchanged blood - sealing the promise forever. It was all highly unnecessary, of course. What did I have to gain by revealing it all?

As he went to leave, I caught his arm. "When can we…Edward and I?"

He licked the blood off his hand, weighing it up in his mind. "Whenever you think it's safe enough. As long as the end result changes nothing, then you should be safe."

"Should be?"

He smiled again. I was starting to like his wry smile; I could expect the truth from it, even if it was painful. "I'm afraid there are no guarantees, Miss Hale." Then he added, as an afterthought "Y'know, I've always liked that name. Much better than Whitlock."

I cleaned the blood off my own hand and stood up, thinking about the origins of that name. The lengths my parents had gone to in order to better that name. What that name had ultimately cost me.

I laughed mirthlessly. "You're welcome to it."

* * *

My first and most prominent instinct was to run to straight to Edward and indulge in that which I had found a solution to maintain, but the relief had brought with it some sense of mind as well. That, obviously, couldn't happen until later. Now that I knew we could continue together, all the weight seemed to lift effortlessly off of my shoulders. I began to feel more like myself again; the road back to sanity was smoother now.

I left the attic and the gloomy candles in search of my family. I was desperate to reassure them that I was fine now; that my temporary depression was gone and in it's wake, a burning sort of joy.

It was no secret that I was the sort of person who was prone to extremely dark periods of dejection, if very rarely. Esme said it because someone as perfect as I was, needed a little balance every now and then. Emmett said it was so I didn't turn into some delicate, gentle little wallflower. Edward and Carlisle, however, maintained a diplomatic silence on the subject.

In the light of my sudden deliverance, I was all too eager to make everyone around me feel as happy as they possibly could. I felt stupid, wracked with guilt about my selfish, unnecessary indulgence in the overwhelming darkness of the connection.

As I walked through our beautifully decorated house, in search of family members I could bestow generous kindnesses upon, I ran a hand through my messy, unkempt hair. I must have looked ridiculous. That wouldn't do at all. I should change clothes first, brush my hair.

I turned the corner that would lead to mine and Emmett's room, when something big and sturdy walked directly into me.

Strong arms set me upright and I realised I had walked into my husband, coming from our room.

He looked so worried, so sad. I knew instantly that his sadness was my doing and it wrenched my heart almost out of my chest. He was beautiful; dressed casually and indifferently. His interest in clothes ended at putting them on and taking them off.

"Rose," he said, surprised. His voice was fractured with evidence of his concern for me. "You're…here?"

"Of course I'm here, baby," I said with genuine, painful honesty. "I'm always here."

I jumped into his arms, ready and waiting, and kissed him.

"I was so worried about you," he said gently, when I pulled back just so I could look at him. I smoothed the hair away from his face and it hit me in a big warm swell, just how much I loved him. He was Emmett. My lovely, perfect Emmett. "I was just coming to see you now."

"I know darling; I'm so sorry. I'm here and I love you so much."

He smiled in a way that nearly broke my heart. I _did_ love him…so much. If I lived to see a thousand years I would never be able to explain how I could love him that much, and still be so hopelessly lost in the connection with Edward. There was probably some big, poetic metaphor for them both. Darkness and light, the necessity of both for balance.

But I didn't care. I was in his arms and everything was going to be alright. The world melted away and I was so happy, that nothing else mattered.

I even managed not to think of Edward when he carried me to our room.

* * *

A few hours passed invisibly. I was beginning to learn how to ignore time; ignore each individual, separate moment as it passed. It was especially easy to do so when I was so completely wrapped up in someone else.

Together, we lay in an untidy, messy heap on the floor of our room. He was twining his fingers in my hair with childlike fascination. I traced each muscular curve of his forearms, letting my fingertips sketch curling shapes on his skin with a feather light touch.

"I've missed you," he sighed.

I looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

There was a momentary fraction of hesitation before he answered. "You're always…distant at this time of year. It's like you're so distracted. I always love it when you come back to me, because it's like you're yourself again. My Rose."

I managed to smile, even though my heart was breaking. I had absolutely no doubt in those moments we lay intertwined with the ease born of familiarity, that I was a terrible, wicked person. What more could I want? He was everything I could ever want. More than I could ever deserve, more than I ever expected. He loved me so completely.

"I know," I said, stroking his hair back off his face. "I know."

"Is it because…?" he looked down now, afraid of meeting my eyes while vocalising the next. "Because you didn't get to go with Edward?"

If my heart wasn't static, it would have skipped a beat.

"The Rochester trip?" I murmured flawlessly. "Yes, a little. But I think that's a bit of a bad habit to be honest." That wasn't honesty; what was I doing? I needed to stop burning bridges, but oh…it kept on coming. "I think I really need to let go of that now."

He smiled again, his happiness curling around his beautiful mouth. "Really?"

"Yes." No.

"Whatever you want," he said with so much love that it made me want to actually hurt myself. I hadn't hated myself this much in years. "Anything you want."

"Can we just stay in here forever then?" I whispered.

He leaned in closer and kissed me slowly, breathing me in. "Only if I can kiss you forever."

I laughed gently and breathed "I never want you to stop."

His smile widened at our private little understanding that those words echoed. I had spoken the same words to him before on a summers night, twenty nine years ago.

"_Her hair was brown, she could climb trees faster than me. Her mother made the best chicken pies.__"__ I threw a throw pillow from my couch at him, which he didn__'__t bother to deflect. He let it hit his face before he resumed. __"__Her name was Marianne Gibson.__"_

_I wrinkled my nose. __"__Marianne?__"_

_He shrugged, as if he accepted the blame. __"__I was young.__"_

"_How young?__"_

"_Sixteen?__"_

"_And you only kissed her?__"_

"_Once. On the lips.__"_

_I threw my head back, laughing. __"__Once? You don__'__t seriously expect me to believe that?__"_

"_It__'__s true. She wanted to__…__go further, but I didn__'__t. I kissed her once and then told her that was the end of it.__"_

_I waited for him to continue to list previous romances. We were both sitting on opposite ends of a very comfortable couch in my room. When he remained silent, I leaned forward slightly. __"__And?__"_

"_And what? She was it. Marianne Gibson.__"_

"_Really?__"_

"_Of course.__"_

_His patient, steady answers were spoken with nothing but undeniable truth. He threw the cushion back at me, which I deflected before it's soft impact. _

"_And you?__"_

_He asked the question with an underlying tone of seriousness. We had been dodging this for over a year now and so far I was doing well at changing the subject or distracting him with beguiling smiles. Something told me I wouldn__'__t be able to equivocate the matter this time, though. _

_I felt ready enough, I supposed. I didn__'__t really know why I was putting off telling him. Maybe because I had never officially _told_ anyone. Carlisle, Esme and Edward all knew about what had happened without me having to sit them down and explain it. _

"_I was engaged,__"__ I said, no longer able to smile. He sat perfectly still, listening intently. I thought that he might have had some very vague idea about what was coming next owing to the reverence of his silence. __"__To a man named Royce King.__"_

_That was easy enough to say, maybe the rest of it would just come out on its own. But no, obviously not. I took a breath and ploughed onwards. _

"_I didn__'__t know him very well,__"__ I said, deciding to get straight to the unpleasant point. __"__We were engaged, mainly by the devices of my parents. He was extremely high up in the social scheme of things. Anyway, a few weeks before we were to be married, I was walking home one night alone and I came upon him with some of his friends. He was very drunk, they all were. They came up to me in the street. It was so late, no-one was anywhere near. He said how beautiful I was and then they-__"_

"_Rose,__"__ he said and put his hand up. __"__Please, I__'__m sorry but you can__'__t.__"_

_I caught sight of his face and realised that he was in genuine pain. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were darker than I had ever seen them. _

"_You don__'__t want me to tell you?__"_

"_Unless__…__.unless these people are alive somewhere and you__'__re going to give me free reign to kill them, I can__'__t hear about it. I know what you__'__re going to say, I _didn't_ know until now. I thought maybe he__'__d left you or broken your heart. I had no idea__…__.I can__'__t bear to even think about it. I__'__m so sorry.__"_

_This was one reaction I hadn__'__t been expecting. __"__It__'__s alright,__"__ I said, and put my hand to his face to make him feel better. __"__It was years ago.__"_

"_I know, but it doesn__'__t change the way I feel.__"__ I wished I had lied now, wished I hadn__'__t told him anything. His eyes weren__'__t meant to look like that__…__so dark and full of hatred for men who had paid their debt in full. __"__I just can__'__t stand the thought that someone did that to you__…__.that you were__…__that they__…"_

_And because he was so distressed by what I _hadn't_ told him, I leaned forward - my mind only on making him feel better - and I kissed him. _

_This was the first time we had ever kissed, and it had happened at a tremendously imperfect moment. The first kiss between us occurred at a time when he was contemplating the abuse I had suffered at the hands of the men who had almost killed me - it was the very antithesis of perfect, but then what did that really matter? Perfection was a far off dream; a rainbow, a unicorn__…__proof of God. It didn__'__t exist except in people__'__s hearts and dreams. Who wanted perfection anyway?_

_His hand came up to the side of my face, his fingers extending as they ran through my hair, brushing over my ear. I expected him to pull me close and wrap his arms around me, but he didn__'__t. In fact, he was the one to break the kiss. _

"_Why did you do that?__"__ he asked, his eyes a strange duality of torment and rapture. _

Why? Because I wanted to make you feel better. Because I need you to understand how secure I am in talking about this. Because I know it will distract you. Because I didn't really think about it. Because I love you.

"_I don__'__t know,__"__ I lied. __"__Are you going to kiss me again?__"_

_Finally, he smiled. I was impatient to see it again. __"__Is that what you want? All I want to do is make you happy. I think about you every minute of every day and night. You fill me up, you make me feel whole. Rosalie, I would willingly spend the next eternity trying to make you happy. Would _that _make you happy?__"_

_I slipped my hair around the back of his neck, and pulled him closer. _

"_You make me happy.__"_

_It was no word of a lie. With him, I knew I could reach the absolute peak of all that happiness had to offer. Happiness was tangible; it had a name, it was well known. Unlike that which existed between Edward and I. _

"_Well you,__"__ he said, gently brushing his nose over mine. __"__Make me complete.__"_

_We kissed again, more intimately this time. I smiled against his lips and we moved a little closer. I wanted him to hold me tighter, pull me to him even more but he didn__'__t. He broke the kiss again. _

"_I__'__m sorry,__"__ he said, slightly out of breath. __"__I didn__'__t mean to go so fast.__"_

_I blinked, slightly confused. Kissing me twice was hardly slow. I realised however, after a few seconds, that to him two kisses in a matter of minutes must have constituted as a major development. Then my train of thought evolved even more as I understood the apology. He thought that I hadn__'__t kissed anyone since it had happened. _

"_Darling,__"__ I said, watching his face light up. __"__Please don__'__t apologise to me. Remember you said, I can never be allowed to apologise to you? Well neither can you. I forbid it. You make me happy in ways I never believed I would deserve from anyone. Don__'__t say sorry, because there__'__s nothing to be sorry about. It was a long time ago and I want you to kiss me.__"__ I wrapped my arms around his neck. __"__I never want you to stop.__"_

Back in the present, he couldn't pull his eyes away from me. "My Rose."

We kissed then, completely enraptured in our own, blissful happiness. Husband and wife; lovers who would never age, never grow old. I would look at the same face that I loved for all that time would allow, and it was all I could ever want.

Well, almost….

* * *

_A/N - This was the first of a three part chapter which is ridiculously long by normal, human chapter standards. Therefore it's being split up into three, but it is essentially the same chapter. Plus I didn't want to prolong anyone's wait. A LOT needs to happen in this chapter and I don't want cram anything because of time or space issues. So yes - I really hope everyone liked this chapter; I'm still impossibly obsessed with it, so hopefully it makes for good reading. These three parts make up a very self indulgent, decadent and passionate chapter that I want to happen before the big move to Forks and all things Bella commence. I'm certainly going to enjoy writing it. Muhahah!_

_Also, you might have noticed by the Leonard Cohen quote, I was heavily listening to this song while writing. My friend says I should make a chapter play list. I told her no-one would want to know what music I listen to while writing and she called me old fashioned. Apparently I need to get with the time. Do I? I've done it anyway so if anyone wants to know the weird music I listened to while writing particular chapters you can find out here:_

_(Sorry, it won't let me link to it) WorldWideWeb-Dot-Freewebs-Dot-Com-ForwardSlash-SugarBucket_

_If that doesn't work, then...gah. I'll just put them all in the next Author's Note. _

_Just one final thing; a couple of people have asked me this. I'm a British 22 year old who knows nothing about American geography. This has been pointed out to me and I hold my hands up in supplication. It's nothing personal - I couldn't point to where I was on a map of Britain, let alone where Philadelphia or Chicago are. It's also why the characters may (or may not) sound ever so slightly British. In my head they are British (Lol) so if they do sound a little weird, that's why. _

_Thanks again to everyone for your wonderful reviews and support. It couldn't be done without you, you're amazing, beautiful people. Thank you all so much. Love you all, can't wait to read your reviews. x x x x x x x x x x x_


	20. Chapter 20: Hallelujah Part Two

**-Chapter Twenty: Hallelujah Part Two-**

**-Edward-**

_Well baby I've been here before  
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew ya  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah  
Hallelujah__…_

_-Leonard Cohen_

Sometimes, I actually thought about doing it. There were moments, particularly times like these, when everything would seem utterly worthless, myself most of all. Tiny rips in the normal fabric of my persona, when I would just want to give up. Little, fleeting moments of weakness when I thought about going to Italy and ending it all.

Everyone at some point in their lives thinks about killing themselves, but for an immortal it was considerably rare. As far as I knew, Rosalie was the only other I had heard who entertained such thoughts. Like me, the thought in her mind was dark and fleeting. It tore away the moment she knew I was in the vicinity and never returned again while I was in earshot.

But then there were so many other moments that were filled to the brim with wonderfulness. I had a family who I loved, and was loved by in return for who I was. I had time to do anything I wanted. I never had to worry about money or illness.

I had _her_.

Yet sometimes, I would find myself on the roof of whatever house it was we lived in, watching the world sleep at night while I observed with cold, almost predatory eyes. And I would wish for rest. Peace. Death.

Death, as Carlisle had whispered to me while transforming me, would never claim me. Old age would never mar the exterior beauty of who I was. Illness would never prevent me from living whatever life I chose to do. I would live forever.

Forever.

It was that world that caused my momentary lapse of self preservation. The word _forever_ sounded more like a punishment than a gift. I couldn't even imagine how long that would be. Would I be standing there with my family and others of our kind when the sun died? When the planet exploded? When humanity failed or became extinct? Would I bear witness to all that? Did I want to? I had not yet seen the turn of another century, I was barely sixty four years old and already it felt as though I knew too much. That wasn't to imply that I did not like learning; far from it, reading was one of the things in this life that I adored. No, it was more than I had experienced too much and instead of old age slowing everything down to a distillation point, it all just kept going. Endlessly.

I scolded myself for such childishness. Carlisle had seen many more years than I had, Jasper too. They weren't losing their minds on the roof of our house in the frays of existentialism.

Of course, there was a very obvious indication of blame, other than my own stupidity.

And it was wrapped up in her husband, one floor beneath me.

I would never understand it. Not if I lived to see a thousand years. What lay between Rosalie and I was a complete mystery to me. Only it's urgency and necessity were familiar. When I felt like this, I realised how dangerous it truly was. I would die for her without a second thought. I would kill for her without the very slightest hesitation. There was only a world because she was in it. There could only be peace when I was with her, and it wasn't even really peace. It was more like…but still, no words. Relief? Damnation? Completion? Destruction? Salvation? Rapture, ecstasy, bliss, aching painful beauty….the words were redundant. Useless and watered down descriptions that could only echo what I really felt.

At times like this, I could almost make myself hate her. When I knew how she was with and what they were doing…it made me feel so painfully alone. And I _was _alone. She would never be with me properly. I could never sit with her in front of our family and hold her, kiss her, touch her. I could barely even smile at her. All we had were our eyes and our stolen day together. The secrecy of the thing was a burden. Over the years it had become less of an aphrodisiac and more of a cold realisation that what we felt could never be validated by others; certainly never approved of.

And now Jasper knew and he was helping us. Somehow, that made it worse. I didn't know Jasper all that well and while I was certain that he loved Alice and would come to love us all very much, he was still an uncertainty. Jasper was not like the others. He had his own, very private, agenda and that made him unpredictable. From what I had heard of Rosalie's mind, he knew how to get around Alice's visions. This too, was a complication. Although I had practically begged him for his help; now that it was given, I wasn't so certain of it's remedy. This put Rosalie and I squarely in his debt which I definitely wasn't pleased about. Although it did give us some leverage if he ever tried to tell anyone, it meant that we were being drawn into an exceptionally tangled web of deception.

But I couldn't convince myself that it wasn't absolutely worth it.

Even now, sitting face to face with a particularly black nadir; I was contemplating when next we could arrange an inconspicuous trip that would allow us to be together.

_Be Together_. It was all I really lived for.

Which brought me back to my suicidal musings. If I couldn't be with her, then what the point to any of it?

I realised how comically Shakespearian this all was. I decided there and then to hate _Romeo and Juliet _for the rest of my unnaturally long life. The very idea that what I was going through was a well documented love story, undermined the severity of what I felt. In fact, I decided to hate all love stories. Be they Austen, Brontë or Shakespeare alike.

I wondered what she would do if I died? If I was rent apart, limb from limb and burned until I was nothing but a pile of little ashes? Would she cry? Would she be able to struggle onwards and pretend I had been nothing but a distant brother? Would she die too? Would she tell everyone that we had been connected in a way they would never understand, and then go to Italy herself?

Or would she be pleased that it had finally come to an end, and with so little exertion on her part? Would she be glad to be freed from this death struggle to survive by being with each other so rarely, when it was something that demanded to be indulged every waking moment of the day and night?

Beneath me, Emmett was thinking how much he loved her. I ground my teeth together and attempted to ignore it; trying so desperately to pretend that I didn't want to scream that he would never love her as much as I did.

Enough was enough. I stood up, ignoring the sudden swell of vertigo, and ran to the edge of the roof…and jumped.

I fell through the air for two seconds…for two wonderful seconds the air hit my face and I felt free from everything. And then I hit the ground, face first.

I hadn't thought it through. The sound I made upon impact was like a small asteroid hitting the earth. I had seriously dented the concrete, in a way I wouldn't be able to cover up.

It wasn't pain, exactly. It just felt frapped; shaken up. There was an odd ringing in my ears which faded the moment I could hear people coming. I swore fluently under my breath, trying to think of how to explain the human shaped dent in the concrete patio of the back garden.

There was absolutely no legitimate reason why I had just dived off the roof.

"Edward!" Esme called, rushing out the back door. "What happened?"

Right behind her, Carlisle was there intently eyeing the shallow crater I had just made.

"I….fell." Oh wonderful. A perfect, all encompassing explanation that was certain to eradicate all worry and blame.

No-one spoke for a long minute. Jasper and Alice appeared. Alice looked pleasantly surprised to see the crater; obviously her foresight had not extended to my little nose-dive.

"Interesting," she said while Jasper looked on intently, his eyes only on me. "How did that happen?"

Carlisle cleared his throat and said with a vast amount of suspicion "He fell."

"From where? A plane?" she said, looking up at the sky.

I had nothing to say to explain how a graceful, dexterous immortal being had managed to trip over on the roof and fall to the ground, without managing to land perfectly upright, like a cat.

"Cheater!" came a shout from inside the house. It was Emmett's booming voice and I suddenly froze in sheer panic. Oh God, he knew! He must have found out somehow! But then what came next made me question my panic. "You were supposed to wait for us!"

Everyone turned, mystified by the obvious humour in his tone. The thought from Rosalie hit me hard.

'_PLAY ALONG!__'_

When they appeared, they were both smiling. "I told you he wouldn't wait, babe," Emmett said, stopping a few feet short of me and throwing a not-so-light jab at my shoulder. "Doesn't play by the rules."

"What's going on?" Esme asked, seeming to speak for everyone. "Rose, Emmett?"

Emmett looked mildly surprised. "Didn't you say the other day you wanted to rebuild the patio? We were ripping the old one up for you!"

"By landing on it?" Carlisle asked, still looking at me with such strange eyes.

"I was supposed to go first," Rosalie put in, crossing her arms and glaring playfully. "We were just at the roof when he jumped. Show off."

I managed to turn my shock and wordless silence into sheepish regret. I turned to Esme and Carlisle. "Sorry," I said, trying my hardest to seem innocent. "I was a bit dazed. I didn't mean to scare you. We just thought it would be fun."

Alice muttered something about "…could have invited me," and Jasper laughed softly. "Oh, I heard that earlier. I admit I didn't think you were serious though."

Carlisle nodded, looking down and retreated silently back into the house. Esme rolled her eyes and pulled me into a hug. "Silly boy," she said. "Next time ask before you decide to obliterate a concrete patio. Not that it doesn't need redoing, but someone could have seen you!"

"No," Alice counteracted calmly. "I would have foreseen it."

"Oh well then," Esme said, brushing me off with unaccountable affection. "I suppose you did have good intentions."

Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper and I all smiled and nodded. Thankfully that was all that was required to convince our loving '_Mother__'_. Carlisle, on the other hand, I knew would present more of a problem. He didn't believe me at all; he was disappointed that I was coercing the others to lie for me. My heart twisted a little. I so _despised _having to deceive him, and despised myself in turn.

Alice took Esme by the hand, suddenly overcome by stunning and complicated ideas for the somewhat plain garden and we four liars were left to our own devices in the quiet night. We spoke fast and low; a conversation no human could ever understand or overhear.

The first one I turned to was Emmett. "Why did you lie?" I whispered, even then still taken aback by his unexpected ability to lie so well.

It was Rose who answered, looking slightly surprised that I didn't know. "Because I asked him to," she said as if it were the most simple, obvious thing in the world. "Jasper told me about how depressed you have been feeling lately; the odd one out of all of us. We heard the crash and looked out of the window; I didn't want Esme and Carlisle to worry. So we lied."

It sounded so simple; so cool. Yet her mind was a gushing torrent of everything she wasn't saying. She was screaming at me for being so stupid, for being so selfish. What would she do without me? How dare I put her through that? Didn't I know that she felt exactly the same? What gave me the right to go jumping off of roofs when she felt as bad, if not worse? I wished I could put my thoughts into her mind; so she could feel what I was thinking.

"Why'd you jump?" Emmett asked, his normally strong tone softened by concern. "You didn't really think that was going to do it, did you?"

I laughed, managing not to sound bitter. "No. I just wanted to see what it felt like."

Jasper cocked his head to the side, interested in a detached sort of way. "Why? Is it us? Do you feel uncomfortable being around so many couples?"

'_Use this. Use it so you can leave. In a week, Rosalie can go and try to bring you back. Use it__'_Jasper's thoughts were unusually fierce. Maybe he thought he had to shout in his head to get me to hear it.

"Maybe," I said, looking to the side. I couldn't think very straight when she was this close, and I was feeling this reckless. My little jump, although indisputably stupid, had riled up my adrenaline. Her silent, seething anger was hot enough to actually touch my skin. I suppressed a shudder and told myself to get a grip…fast.

"It's a little….difficult to be around you all when you're so happy. So together."

That was an understatement.

"Yeah but…jumping off the roof?" Emmett seemed unable to let it go. In fact any moment he seemed about to burst out into laughter at my pathetic attention seeking. "Kinda lame."

"I know, I know," I said irritably. "But you don't understand. It's different for you, being with the one you love all the time. I have to listen to your inner thoughts! It drives me a mad!"

Emmett winced. "Actually, that would drive me crazy too."

Rosalie caught on fast. She snorted derisively. "So what are you going to do then? Buy some earplugs?"

I ignored her; a very well practised coldness between us. In fact, that was what our family thought we did best. Ignore one another. The irony of that; if I could ignore her, then my life would actually be bearable. I would be a good person. I would know some kind of peace.

"I was thinking," I said, drawing myself up to it. "Maybe I should leave for a while."

Emmett and Jasper rushed to convince me otherwise; I saw firsthand how good a liar Jasper was, while Emmett's pleas for me to stay were genuine. He would actually miss me. The thought of his kindness and our kinship brought me to bite down on my self hatred. I wondered if he would miss me, if he ever found out…

"Don't go!" he said, pleading with his eyes. When I avoided them, he turned to Rosalie; his wife, his world, his true love. "We can be more discreet, right babe?"

Rosalie snorted with serious doubt. Even I had to laugh at that. Rosalie and Emmett were a lot of things together, but they were certainly not discreet. Jasper suppressed something resembling a laugh and for a small moment; we were all family, standing in the back garden, laughing at innuendo. Rosalie and I caught one another's eye and the moment shattered instantly. We might have been family, but we weren't exactly a perfect one. So many lies and secrets…such betrayal of a person I loved as a brother…my father, Carlisle who by now must have some idea of what was happening…my sister, for all intents and purposes, who I was indescribably involved with on every possible level…oh yes, such a wonderful family.

We broke eye contact immediately. That was dangerous, especially in the presence of others.

"I think," Rosalie said, looking at Emmett, who responded by curling his arms around her and pulling her towards him. "That Edward should speak to Carlisle. Don't you?"

Emmett smiled slowly; the two of them were being drawn back into their own little world, and Rosalie was encouraging him as much as possible to distract herself from me.

"No," he said as she twined her arms around his neck. "I think he should stay."

I had to look away and close my eyes. Just a few more minutes and I could leave…just a little longer and I could be alone to wait for her…a little longer.

"I agree, of course," she said, the smile so present in her voice. "But if he's unhappy, maybe talking to Carlisle would help."

It occurred to Emmett that Carlisle would talk me out of leaving. "Yeah," he said, running the back of his index finger down her cheek. I could hear the skin tracing over the soft, very familiar flesh. I took a deep breath and maintained my self control. The duality of it all was startling; I was pained by how much Emmett wanted me to stay, yet simultaneously jealous that he could be like that with her in public…that he might know her body better than I did because of simple everyday familiarity…maybe he knew _her_ better than I did.

"Yes," Jasper said sharply, cutting through my confusing, increasing jealously. "I agree. You should speak to Carlisle. Now."

I turned away, thanking him silently, and left them alone…not fast enough to avoid the sound of their lips touching.

* * *

Carlisle wasn't where I expected him to be. His study was empty and dark; the lights were all off, even the small desk lamp which was normally left on perpetually. I knew he had been here not long ago, his fresh scent still lingered, but this was worrying. I didn't like not being able to find him, like a child growing nervous when losing sight of their parent. If he wasn't with Esme (and after scanning Alice's nearby thoughts, he definitely wasn't) then he was alone somewhere.

And I knew why.

He was troubled and I was the source.

As I began to look for him, trying and failing to latch on to his thoughts and consequently his whereabouts, I remembered back thirty years ago. I recalled the night he had asked me to go hunting with him and he had confronted me.

He had been very quick, it now seemed, to accept the 'truth' I presented him with. For really, the lie had been greatly flawed and it would have only taken a conversation with Rosalie to undo everything I had shoddily tried to sew together. The seams of my lie would have split open…but he never spoke to her about it. He never even asked her about that night.

For a while, I had been able to dismiss this as chivalry. Carlisle loved Rosalie greatly; he had never relinquished that sense of responsibility for her and loved her more than a mere daughter. Her happiness and wellbeing were an extremely high priority of his and I knew he would hate to question her relationship with Emmett.

But now, in the cold light of hindsight, something was definitely wrong.

There was a strange, alien look in his eyes and a surprisingly blankness in his mind whenever there was some prevalent interaction between Rosalie and me. It was rare, but occasionally we would exchange some sort of extremely cold banter between one another, if things were approaching suspicion. Emmett would roll his eyes and nudge Rosalie gently on the shoulder; his loving rebuke of the situation. Esme would worry until it went away; she so disliked her family not getting along. Carlisle, however, would just go blank. In his eyes, that unfamiliar shine…and I had ignored it up until now, so blindly convinced that he knew nothing.

Except that now, I was almost certain that he did.

We had thought ourselves so clever; the trips alone, the back story of Rochester and the necessity of the visit brought on by memories so dark that no-one would ever question her need to visit the place. But it seemed silly now; reckless and childish.

Carlisle had never questioned it; never voiced or displayed any outward suspicion that might urge us to be more careful. Just that same look in his eyes that I dismissed easily because I was still in the rapture of having had her all to myself.

I should have come across him by now. The cottage wasn't so big that it would take me this long to find anyone, but I was walking slowly on purpose; delaying the moment like a scolded infant, sent to their father. I could only vaguely recall my real father now…a distant, blurry figure who had broken fragments of speech and was an imperfect shadow present at various important situations in my life. My mother was almost completely gone too. It was as if they were giving me permission to forget them; to move on with this new family.

"Get a grip!"

I shook myself and decided that Carlisle must be somewhere else, outside of the house. His thoughts were nowhere to be found; maybe he was in the woods. I winced, not relishing the idea of another 'forest' discussion between us, but when I opened the front door, he was standing right there.

"Looking for me, son?" he asked. I scanned his mind frenziedly but acquired nothing. His mind was oddly empty of thoughts, even of precognitive speech. His tone was friendly as was his relaxed, normal posture. The strange shine was in his eyes, though, alerting me to the fact that something was wrong and it concerned my previous fears.

"Yes," I said, hating the small fracture in it. "I need to talk to you."

He nodded, pulling on his a black jacket. "Of course you do. But first, I need you to see something."

"What is it?"

"I'll take you to it."

He indicated with a nod of his head, to the black car behind us.

"Alright," I agreed, massively consumed by trepidation. "Let's go then."

We drove through the night in silence. There was no music playing as he sped through the darkness; I dreaded each time he took a breath, fearing it was about to be used for words. But the silence persisted and grew more and more anxious with each mile that sped by. He was taking us through town and out the other side, to a much smaller community. Once we were in a more suburban area, he slowed down considerably. The quaint houses passed us and I stared ahead determinedly.

He stopped outside one of the houses and I looked around for indications of why we were here. A regular house, all in darkness. Not unusual for this time of night.

"Come on," he said very quietly. I stalled only for a moment and then got out of the car. It was a family district; this pathway was a commonly used route for children to walk to school. The scent of pastries hung in the air; perhaps tomorrow was some sort of event at school.

"Why are we here?" I breathed.

Carlisle was walking over to the darkest house, the one with a tree and a piece of torn rope hanging from it. "Come on."

I blinked. Was he going into the house? Was this some sort of call out, did someone need his medical skills? Why bring me?

But I followed him anyway and caught up to him in a second. We walked past the tree and what had previously been an old swing. It was broken now, a single length of rope hanging from a strong bough, the wooden seat dangling uselessly. There was a faint smell of a girl's hands all over the rope. He was at the front door, when I caught his sleeve.

"What are we doing?"

He looked at me fully. "I think the question, Edward, is what are _you_ doing?"

Oh God. He knew.

If I had been human, the blood would have drained from my face. I waited for him to expand his calm, polite accusation but instead he opened the front door - unlocked - and walked inside the house. I entered the house, caught up in the insanity of it all.

Even in the dark, I could see it was completely empty. Our footsteps echoed along the bare floorboards and every sound echoed off of the empty, bare walls. No-one lived her anymore, although the smells of humans were pretty recent.

"A family lived here," Carlisle said, his strong voice bouncing off the walls. "Raised their two children, Maggie and Sarah. They had lived here all their lives."

He paused for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. I winced suddenly, for I had caught the scent of something strong and bitter; acrid and yet something I was well acquainted with. I opened my mouth to ask him about it, but he held up his hand.

"Then six months ago, the eldest girl Sarah, fell in love with a boy from school. The boy, James, wasn't well suited for her, or so thought the two families. The boy was black, the choice of partners wasn't well received by either end of the parents. James was moved away and last week, Sarah hung herself from the attic using the rope from her swing. When her father cut her down, she had carved his name into her arm."

He looked at me through the dusty darkness. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked, although I already knew the relevance.

"The family will never recover," he told me. "Ripped apart because of something too powerful that they couldn't understand or appreciate."

"It's very sad."

"Yes. It made me think of you," he went on. "I was asked to come here, even though it's not my area. I think the family just wanted someone to come and talk to them about it. They wanted to know there was nothing they could have done; that there was something wrong with Sarah."

"Did you lie and tell them that?"

"Yes, I did."

"You lied to spare their feelings, even though you knew there was nothing wrong with her?"

"Of course. Their daughter was dead; what could be gained from making them suffer for it until the day they die? Sometimes, in situations like this…when something so strong and unstoppable causes pain…the best thing to do is lie."

We surveyed one another, using this poor family as our shield from actually saying what needed to be said. When he spoke again, his tone of voice was softer.

"I love Rosalie," he said. "I found her in the streets, broken and bleeding and more ashamed than in pain and I will always feel responsible for her happiness. Is she happy, Edward?"

I tried to answer, but my throat was stuck.

"Tell me," he continued through my silence. "That she's happy…that you both are."

"I don't understand." I wished I could sound like he did; so strong and all knowing.

"You jumped off the roof of our house tonight. Is this making you happy?"

"There's no such thing as happiness."

He nodded, smiling dryly. "I know how clever you are, Edward. I know how well you lie…even to me. I see the way you look at her, only twice I've caught it in the last thirty years…but it's enough to know. If it doesn't make you happy, then why are doing this?"

I expelled a short breath and caught it again, putting my hand to my face. "You think I have a choice?"

"I think you have systematically deceived us for three decades, just so you can be with her. I think this is something you have chosen to do, yes."

It hit me hard, right in the solar plexus and drove me to my knees. I could lie to anyone else…think of a brilliant cover story for anyone else….but Carlisle was my father; he had saved me, taught me to respect life. I couldn't lie to him anymore and what the point? He knew everything anyway.

"I can't…be without her," I choked out. "It's the same for her, I swear it!"

"How could you do that?" he demanded. "How could you do something so cruel and underhand to Emmett?"

I was crying, sobbing on the floor like I had done when I was little. "Please," I begged. "Please forgive me."

"No," his voice turned hard and cold. "No-one will forgive you. I'm going reveal this, Edward. Everyone will know and you'll have to leave."

"Please! Please don't tell them…._please_!"

When I looked up, his face was so full of disgust that my breath caught and I almost choked. His face had never looked like that…_never_.

"And to think that I loved you as a son."

…**it broke****…**

The door was still closed….

I was still in the house….

I hadn't found Carlisle yet….

My breath was coming in painfully ragged gasps; still instinctual, even after all this time. I was shaking and disconcerted beyond the telling of it. What had happened? Had that been some sort of….dream?

I hadn't dreamt since the night I awoke from the blistering, splintering agony of my transformation. Vampires didn't sleep; we didn't dream. Always awake, always conscious.

So what had that been? Reality had blended into my fears, perhaps? A strange scene that played out in my head with decreasing realism?

Or maybe, I was losing my mind.

I shook myself, opened the door and stared into the vast nothingness. Carlisle wasn't there. We hadn't gone anywhere together…he hadn't said that to me.

I swallowed hard and leaned against the wall for support. Whatever it was…overactive imagination or encroaching insanity….either way, it had been horrific.

My decision was made, and for once…it had nothing to do with the prospect of seeing Rosalie. I left there and then, in the clothes I was wearing, not even closing the door behind me.

* * *

My reward was time. Time and emptiness. No-one else to fill the void with their speech or existence. No-one to look at, no-one to care about. Time alone with myself. Such was my reward. Ample amounts of time to be with the person I despised the most.

I knew now why I was drawn to broken, deserted buildings. It was because I was one. I sat in the ruins of an old lighthouse, long since functional, and grimly contemplated my unnecessary thoughts on the subject.

I was a deserted, ruined structure; broken and cold until someone was inside. As it was, only one person held the key, and she was miles away.

Up until now, I hadn't thought it was possible that I could cry. That myth was well and truly gone; I had cried until I ached. The nasty, oddly realistic daydream plagued me constantly. I had fled from that as much as from her, but that had followed me here. I could see Carlisle looking at me with such revulsion every time I closed my eyes…and _her_ face when I opened them.

At this point, I had to admit that I was broken. Rosalie, in effect, had broken me. My mind was no longer smooth and controlled; a well catalogued library in information. Now it was chaotic and messy; filled with things that terrified me, all of them my own doing. I pulled at my hair and tried to arrange my mind like it had once been, but it was to no avail. So far away from her…in such tremendous pain, I was useless. I hadn't hunted, I didn't _want_ to hunt. There was only me and my pain, in the desolate lighthouse. The only comfort was the sound of the ocean; unstoppable and uncaring for my tribulations. I listened to the constant ebb and flow of the tides and I managed to close my eyes and see darkness for a little while.

It had been a month and I had seen no-one. I had heard sounds of teenagers breaking into the base of the edifice beneath me, kissing and laughing together. Sometimes they would try to venture upstairs, but I had barricaded myself in. They gave up quickly, and resumed their warm, clumsy intimacies. I had listened to them, feeling vaguely disgusted with myself but unable to shut it out. Even with my hands over my ears, I could hear everything.

After they left, I let my mind wander as far as it wanted to. I imagined, masochistically, that Rosalie and I were human. That Emmett was my brother and Carlisle and Esme our parents. I imagined that I had met Rosalie somewhere and we had fallen in love in front of everyone. I imagined how happy they would all be for us; how overjoyed Esme would be when we told them we were getting married. How Emmett would tease me, while simultaneously cheering me on. I imagined the look of pride on Carlisle's face when he would stand behind me at the altar, watching me promise to love her until the day we both died.

I imagined what she would look like when she was asleep; how beautiful her face would be as she dreamt of me…how her lashes would rest on her skin. I craved that; being able to watch her sleep. I had only seen her at various time with her eyes closed…very particular, intimate times…and I wanted more of it. I wanted to wake her up with breakfast and a rose. I wanted to kiss her when she still sleepy and warm from our bed. I wanted to hear the sounds of our children come running in, demanding attention. I wanted to watch her spoil them all rotten. I wanted to stay up all night with her and have it mean something…I wanted to watch the sun rise with her and appreciate it, because we so rarely got to see it. I wanted to fall asleep in her arms and hear the rhythm of her heartbeat.

I cracked my head back on the wall, hard enough that it dented the brick. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" I demanded, furious that I had allowed myself to get that far into my completely unrealistic dreaming. That would never happen. I could never watch the woman I loved while she slept. I could never feel her heartbeat.

What was wrong with me? I knew all of this, I knew it back to front! It was my life as well as hers and wanting for things that were long gone was stupid. I was putting myself through unnecessary pain. Besides, what we felt for one another didn't encompass breakfast in bed and small children.

That was why we had needed Emmett, of course. In the beginning it had been uncontrollable; wild and dangerous. Not something that could be diluted by fondness and platonic affection. It had been raw and violent; desperate and demanding. It still was, but thirty years of such a connection had yielded other things as well. I _did_ want to watch her sleep, and it hurt me to know that I never would.

It had been a month, because I didn't want to be found. I knew she would come looking for me and I couldn't bear to allow it, even though I was damaging my mind; my sanity, my very soul if such a thing existed.

I craved her presence…I craved _her_, but it couldn't happen. No, I would have to stay here until I was sane enough to figure this out.

Jasper and Alice should have been a wake up call. The arrival of an oracular immortal should have been sufficient warning to tell me to let this go; to move on while we still could, before anyone was hurt by it. But then there had been Jasper and the possibility of continuing together. I wished he hadn't told Rosalie how to avoid detection. If it was that much of an impossibility, it would have stopped completely. The danger had increased greatly, but it was still viable.

Only now, I had seen a grim glimpse of what I was determined to believe was one possible future. Seeing Carlisle look at me like that was horrible enough when it was imagination; the prospect of him _actually_ looking me like that in reality, was unbearable.

Distance, I decided, had to be the answer. Surely what lay between Rosalie and I couldn't stretch so far over space and time? Maybe if we got enough distance and months between us, we could stop it of our own choosing. We could _choose_ to stop, instead of being forced to.

But I knew how impossible that was. Distance and lonely hours of nothingness had made no dent in the oceanic swell of what was between us; as unstoppable as the tide, as determined as the waves, as powerful as the current and just as inexorable. Even here, in a different continent, everyone speaking a different language; she was still too close to bear. I knew that somewhere she was out there, existing; that was enough to ruin any peace the sound of the waves offered.

I could hear a human approaching, chatting away to someone. A young male, gabbing in rapid fire French. He was obviously trying to impress someone, a girl perhaps. I was about to allow my mind to wander into further envying of humans, when I caught another scent and it nearly shattered my mind into broken pieces.

No. How…_how_ had she found me?

I was standing upright as I hadn't been for days, suddenly so alert. I listened hard to the young French man's speech, marred slightly by the sea wind but still perfectly distinguishable.

"Oui, il arrive juste ici. Beaucoup d'entre les autres les gamins viennent ici pour ... que vous savez. Bien, c'est tout à fait dangereux à l'intérieur. Avez-vous voulu que je sois venu avec vous et vous sois assurés que vous êtes sûrs?"

Rosalie laughed; it chimed like a polished bell. "Aucun merci. Je suis sûr que je serai coffre-fort. Vous pouvez aller maintenant si vous voulez. Merci mille fois de m'aider, Alex. Je suis très reconnaissant."

Her kind rejection of his 'help' getting inside the lighthouse he had shown her to, obviously disappointed him greatly. His previously buoyant tone was now dented slightly.

"Bien, bien ... si vous avez besoin de moi pour vous attendre ici…" he added hopefully, eagerly hoping that she _would_ need him to wait for her.

"No. Mais merci."

"D'accord," he conceded gloomily and after that I couldn't hear anything else, but the sound of her approaching footsteps.

Those heels sounded more like thunderclaps, each one growing louder and closer. I listened as she easily swept away the strong barricade I had made to keep up curious humans. I felt her pause, heard her taste the air and then the rustle of her hair; she was shaking her head.

"Really, Edward?" she said tightly. "Really?"

I closed my eyes, briefly considering jumping through the roof and into the ocean, just to avoid this. It would be so easy, just motivate my legs out of their current moratoria and tear through the rotting wood and into the freezing cold sea. But what was the point? She would follow me and dragging her into the cold, salty water would only enrage her further. I knew by the icy, tight tone of her voice that she was furious.

I still couldn't speak or even open my eyes. I was rooted to the spot, held in place by my own weakness and terror. Suddenly her scent was everywhere, filling me up and washing me through with it's undeniable lure and promise. I tried not to breathe, but every part of my body was betraying me; it didn't want to cut off the delicious scent, it didn't want to leave.

And suddenly, we were alone together as we hadn't been for fourteen months. I could still recall the last time with startling clarity. I had replayed it over in my head frequently during this past month. Every kiss, every touch, every time her hand ran through my hair, every time she would make that small, heavenly noise in the back of her throat.

"Open. Your. Eyes."

She _was _angry. I knew I deserved it fully; I had left without a word, like a sulky teenager in the night. But nothing was further from the truth; it wasn't because of some fabricated hormonal reason that I had left - it was because I didn't know what else to do.

When I opened my eyes, my breath caught in my chest.. Rosalie was the sort of being who required new words to fully describe how truly incredible she looked. Beautiful…the word paled in comparison to seeing her there, hair windswept, eyes scorching gold, red lips pursed together as she surveyed me. I was in the same clothes I had been when last we saw one another. I was dirty, probably smeared with grime. She stood there, so strong and furious….I so weak and mesmerized.

I managed to snap myself out of it quick enough.

"Go away," I begged, not even bothering to try and make it sound cold. It had gone beyond that now, all the mind games and pretences. I sounded exactly how I felt; tired, broken and desolate. "Please, just leave."

"So you can what? Build a nice little life here? Some throw pillows and a mirror, maybe? Bring in a piano and you'd never have to leave!" I could see she was trembling ever so slightly. Her nostrils were flared and she wasn't wearing any rings again. Perhaps she had already broken them. The clothes she was wearing were at least a week old; mingled with the scent of other places far from here. There was no trace of the others. She had come alone. With difficulty, I managed to suppress a groan.

"Please, just go."

"Why? Can't I visit my _brother _in his new, apt little domicile?"

"I'm not your brother," I said, wishing I could throw myself off the cliffs outside and plunge into the icy, black water. "I'm not saying this to hurt you…I just need to be alone."

"You've been alone long enough," she snarled. "The others made me wait, but it's been long enough."

That caught me slightly off guard. "What?"

"Alice knew where you would go, after you changed your mind a few times. Three weeks ago, she saw you here in a crumbling old lighthouse with a French name. Needless to say that this isn't the first lighthouse I've been to in this country. Her visions are nothing if not imperfect. Even then, when they knew where you were they wouldn't let me go after you. They made me wait until nine days ago. It was only a few miles away that I managed to track your scent. And now _here you are_."

The last three words were spoken with a considerable amount of bile. I tried to stay out of her mind, but it was impossible. I heard it coming, even though her thoughts were unintelligible and wild, I knew the basic shape of them. She wasn't as angry as she was insecure. Insecurity was not something Rosalie Hale wore well; there was no need for such a weakness, but it was rippling through her like a venomous flood.

"Why have you come?" I knew I shouldn't ask, I was so terrified of what her answer was, but it came spilling out of my mouth anyway.

Now she looked seriously disgusted; as if I was in ignorance of a blatantly obvious piece of information.

"To bring you back," she growled. "Why else?"

I suddenly realised the source of the insecurity. "Rosalie," I said, choking on her name. "You don't think I…?"

"Think what? That you left me? Left us? That you went away and didn't tell me where you were going? That you didn't want to be found, especially not by me?"

She was extremely bitter now. I opened my mouth to attempt an explanation, but she spoke over me.

"You think you're the only one who struggles with this? Do you? Why are you doing this to me, Edward? What have I done to deserve something like that? I almost lost my mind, trying to stay calm in front of them all. I didn't care if they guessed, I couldn't even force myself to act normal! You _can__'__t_ just leave like that! I don't care what stupid reason you have for doing something so atrociously selfish and cruel!"

"What's the alternative then? Wait until Emmett finds out? Until…Carlisle finds out?"

Her face softened a touch, something resembling pity. "You think he knows, don't you?"

"No," I denied instantly. "Of course not."

She shook her head, and shrugged out of her jacket. She dropped it on the floor, covered with old debris; she obviously wasn't going to be picking it up again any time soon.

"You always think you're right. You never think to actually _talk _to people."

"Meaning?" Her suspension of the point was intolerable; it was all I could do not to touch her, and she was dragging it out.

"You think Carlisle knew about us - you're wrong. I spoke to him, there's a different reason why he gets that look in his eyes."

Once again, I was thrown off by her uncanny ability to see straight through me, with more accuracy than even my gift allowed.

"Then why?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled, obviously trying to postpone what she had to say next. I scanned her mind, but there were too many thoughts; too many emotions to draw one single, clear motive from the whirlpool.

"After you left," she began, keeping her eyes away from me. "Carlisle told me that he knew it was his fault. We spoke for a long time about why he thought he had driven you away and it comes down to something so simple; something that could be so easily cleared up if you weren't so reliant on reading people's minds, rather than actually talking to them."

"Astound me then!" I snapped - a desperate, evident attempt to get her to look at me. She kept her liquid gold eyes on the filthy floor.

"Guilt."

I frowned and shook my head. "What?"

"He feels guilty, about everything. About you, about me…the way we act around one another. He feels as though he has failed."

I held up my hand. "Wait, _he_ feels guilty? _He_ thinks that he has failed…_us_?"

I knew now why she did not want to meet my eyes. "Yes."

"How?"

"The way we are, so cold. He was so certain, when he changed me, that you and I would be perfect for one another. He regrets the decision sometimes, because he knows what I went through at first. What you went through because of me…in his mind, because of him. Even despite Emmett, he feels his judgement is flawed. He looks at you and I and he questions himself. _That__'__s_ why he gets that look in his eyes. I have seen it too. He wondered how he could have been so wrong and he hides it from you as much as he can."

I tried to digest that, it was painful to swallow. The ripples of our involvement were wide and deep, affecting more people than we originally thought in unforeseen ways.

"He questions himself?" I breathed, in a rough whisper.

"Yes."

My well articulated mind could form no words for a while; it seemed Rosalie was inclined to remain silent and wait for me to speak.

I closed my eyes, reaching the already concrete conclusion.

"We're hurting everyone around us."

"I know."

"Carlisle, Emmett…eventually something will happen."

We looked at each other at the exact same moment. Her eyes widened slightly.

"What are you saying?"

"Remember the promise?"

Her mind flickered back thirty years ago. Of course she remembered; memories were her speciality. "_'Promise me that if it gets too hard for you, you'll tell me. Don't pretend everything is alright. Promise that you'll tell me.'"_she recited perfectly, a cold edge to the narration._"_Is that what you mean, Edward? You're keeping your promise and telling you can't handle this anymore?"

There was barely contained anger beating in the rhythm of her words, but beneath that was an ever present, unbidden warmth. I could feel her trying to reject it; she didn't want to feel like that right now, she wanted to be angry.

"It's different for you," I said, quietly. "You have no idea how hard it is for me."

Very briefly she thought of slapping me for that insult, but her mind forebode it. She wouldn't do that to me; not when I was like this.

"You can't possibly believe that."

"Of course I can! You can't understand how I feel, because you have Emmett!" I was shouting at her now; I didn't know why. "You're not alone without me, you have him! He loves you more than he knows how to, and you love him in return! The months, days…moments in between me, you have him! You don't have to wait and sit there, watching me with someone else! It's so beyond unfair, Rose! Who do I have without you? No-one!"

"You swore to me you could do this," she spat. "You swore to me that you would do whatever it took for this to remain. I believed you and we've somehow continued this for thirty years…and now you're saying it's too hard?"

"I'm saying that it's not worth the risk!"

Her lips parted in genuine shock and hurt. "You bastard."

"I'm not saying _you__'__re_ not worth the risk! I'm saying that for one day a year, it's not worth destroying everyone else we love!"

"Why? Because you're jealous? Because you've decided you want some sweet little wife of your own who you can entertain yourself with while I'm with Emmett? Is that it? Fair and square, right? Pathetic."

"How is that pathetic? What reason do you want to give me, Rose? Could it be that you don't want anyone else in our family? Could it be that you can't bear to see me with anyone else? Could it be that you _like_ me being so jealous over you?"

"Oh and here we go again! Push and pull, push and pull…you want me, and I don't want you - you don't want me and I want you! Jesus Christ, don't you ever get tired of this? I am sick to death of being split in half just so I can stay sane! Three decades of the same mantra and drama and now here are again, spilling the same poison and bile over one another because who else can we turn to? I hate who I've become and I hate what it's doing to everyone and you know what the worst thing is? I can't…hate…._you_!"

"THEN WHY CAN'T WE BE TOGETHER?" I shouted as loud as I could.

"WE ARE _ALWAYS _TOGETHER! DON'T YOU GET THAT? THERE IS NEVER A MOMENT IN WHICH YOU ARE NOT WITH ME! IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW MUCH I LOVE HIM OR HOW MUCH I CONVINCE MYSELF THAT WHAT WE'RE DOING IS WRONG! IT NEVER STOPS! YOU'RE _ALWAYS _THERE!"

She had never screamed at me like this; it had always been too great a risk. I was vaguely aware of the rational part of my mind telling me that Alice might see this, because we were changing things now. But I didn't care.

No-one spoke for a few more minutes. Rosalie put her hand to her mouth, I knew she was blinking back tears. I didn't bother to try.

"Why?" I asked. "Why does it always have to be like this between us? Why couldn't we have just told them when you first came to us? Why couldn't you have just married me when I asked you to?"

"Don't you dare bring that up!" she warned, with far less potency in her voice that she would have liked. "Don't you dare."

"Why not? Tell me, Rosalie…why couldn't we have been together when there was no risk? When no-one could have been hurt? Before him?"

She wiped her eyes and sniffed; when she spoke, her voice was far more controlled. "Because we would have torn each other apart. We are creatures too similar; too volatile and mercurial. Between us, there is no balance. No light and dark…only equal darkness."

"But look at us now. We're broken, cold and lost. And for what?"

When she looked at me, I knew the answer to my own question. It ran through my blood like warm sugar; electrifying each and every one of my nerve endings, resonating music in my head. My objections capitulated instantly, melting away like ice in front of a fire. Sometimes I managed to convince myself that she wasn't _that_ incredible…now was not one of those times.

"Because all else is hollow. Believe me, if I could hate you…I would. If I could never touch you again…it would be so much easier. But it would be a reversal of everything I am, whether I like it or not. I have been with you for most of my life, immortal or otherwise. There is nothing outside of you; nothing real."

"I know," I said, turning away and looking out of the broken boards. I could see narrow strips of ocean, bathed in warm rays of sunset. "I know."

I felt her approach me, her mind softening now. The confusion had lessened slightly; she knew why I had left now and it didn't mean I didn't want her anymore.

When she slipped her hands around my waist, I closed my eyes. She was surrounding me suddenly, her lips pressed to the back of my neck, just below my hairline.

"Broken, but whole," she breathed into me, her breath echoing over my skin like a ghost. "Dead, but alive. Empty, but full. You're always inside of me. Our existence is the same; one soul, split in half. You are me and I am you. If I could rip myself out of this skin so I could melt inside of you, I would. There is nothing without you."

I felt two more tears roll down my face, as she voiced everything that I felt in a way that I never could, because I would always be terrified we would go too far - Rosalie had no such compunction. Her arms tightened around me, keeping me close to her. Keeping me as _her own_. "What about them?"

Rosalie turned me around to face her in one smooth movement. "We're clever," she whispered, her breath playing across my face. "We can be more careful. Please. Please open your eyes, Edward. All I do is wait for one singular moment when I can look into them and see you. _Please_, look at me."

I obeyed. She was close to me, our noses almost touching. She ran her fingertips down the side of my face; the sensation was so light, lemony and acidic but altogether wonderful. I shuddered and she traced her fingers across my mouth with fascination, still looking into me.

"You are mine," she said hoarsely. "And I am yours. Nothing will change that. Not time, or love or obligation. Not lies or coldness or even God."

I reached up and took her hand in mine, feeling her slender fingers in my grasp. "We are damned," I said, twining our fingers together.

Her hand found my other one and wrapped itself around that too. "Then we'll be in hell together. Nothing matters, so long as we are together."

I swallowed and nodded; my body was suddenly all too aware of how close she was and I suddenly felt dizzy. A cold thought prickled over her mind and startled me a little.

"How could you even think that?" I asked, finding breath difficult to pull in.

She leaned in, but not to kiss me. Instead she kissed the trail of my icy cold tears with her warm lips. When she pulled back, there was something in her face that pulled at my chest.

'_You might find someone else,__'_ she thought at me. _'__You might fall in love with someone else.__'_

"What force in heaven or hell could possibly make me not want you?"

'_Promise me you never will,__'_ she begged. I drew back ever so slightly.

"What?"

It was moments away, hanging in the air…what needed to happen between us and yet she was prolonging it with this. How much did she seriously think I could take?

'_Promise me,__'_ she continued, refusing to vocalise her unreasonable plea. _'__Promise me you__'__ll never fall in love with anyone else, Edward. I couldn__'__t bear it. I know it__'__s hard for you, but you insisted on involving Emmett. I would have left him if you had asked me to. If you fall in love with someone else, it would destroy me.__'_

It was an easy promise to make, when she was so unbearably close to me and so fully _there _with me_. _There was no-one else in the world at that moment, let alone anyone else I could ever fall in love with.

_

* * *

_

_A/N - This seemed to take ages to write, but it was only when I was editing (I don't have a beta) that I realised it was 25 pages long. I think it's officially the longest chapter I've ever written, especially for fan fiction. If it was too long, please tell me - I'll try and keep it a bit shorter in future if it's unbearable. However, everything necessary happened (for once) and the final part of this 3-part chapter will be up soon. Following_ _this, the Cullens are moving to Forks and the real fun begins._

_I really hope everyone liked this chapter; I worked very hard to write it and make it 'good' which is, of course, a relative term. But…anywho, I really enjoyed reading it back. I actually speak French, so that part should all be accurate. If not, oh well. Also - when reading it back, I realised I had used the term 'Little Ashes' completely by accident. I must be getting obsessed, lol. _

_The translations for the French are as follows (many thanks to Aceswild for reminding me):_

**"Oui, il arrive juste ici. Beaucoup d'entre les autres les gamins viennent ici pour ... que vous savez. Bien, c'est tout à fait dangereux à l'intérieur. Avez-vous voulu que je sois venu avec vous et vous sois assurés que vous êtes sûrs?"**

**_Yes, it's just over here. A lot of the other kids come for...you know. Anyway, it's really dangerous inside. Did you want me to come with you and make sure you're safe?"_**

**...**

**"Aucun merci. Je suis sûr que je serai coffre-fort. Vous pouvez aller maintenant si vous voulez. Merci mille fois de m'aider, Alex. Je suis très reconnaissant."**

**_No thank you. I am sure that I shall be safe. You can go now if you want. Thank you very much for your help, Alex. I am very grateful._**

**...**

**Bien, bien ... si vous avez besoin de moi pour vous attendre ici…"**

**_"Sure, sure...if you needed me to wait here for you..."_**

_Finally, just to thank everyone for your constant, unending support. You make writing this all worth it and I LOVE hearing from you. Please, please, please leave a review - I live for them. Love to you all x x x x x x x x_


	21. Chapter 21: Halleluhja Part Three

**-Chapter Twenty One: Hallelujah Part Three-**_  
_

_Well there was a time when you let me know,  
What's really going on below  
But now you never show that to me do ya?  
And remember when I moved in you?  
And the holy dove was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah  
Hallelujah__…_

_-Leonard Cohen_

_*_

**-Rosalie-**

'_Au clair de la lune_, _mon ami Pierrot_. _Prête-moi ta plume_, _pour écrire un mot_. _Ma chandelle est morte_, _je n'ai plus de feu_. _Ouvre-moi ta porte_ _pour l'amour de Dieu_.'

Above me, lying on top of me as if I were some sort of exquisitely comfortable chez lounge, Edward laughed and nuzzled the hollow of my throat with lazy affection.

"Why are you singing in French?" he asked me, his words slow and comfortable.

My hands, currently twined in his hair, moved to his face so I could bring him back to my lips. He obliged without hesitation, kissing me languidly; but deeply.

Humanity was starting to return in slow, almost unwilling trickles. We were laughing and teasing. I could recall and things that I loved. I could see colours again; feel other sensations around me, nuances of the wooden floor, tiny grains of glass. I could taste the air again and we were caught in a strange intermediate of the two worlds.

"Because," I said against his mouth. "We're in France."

I moved my foot up and down the back his leg; we were still embraced in a deeply personal way, neither one of us willing or able to make a move towards modesty.

"You used to sing that song in your head before," he pointed out, biting at my bottom lip. "When you were trying to avoid thinking about me."

"It was my favourite lullaby when I was young," I said in a low voice; surprising myself that I was still capable of rational speech at this point. "My nanny used to sing it to me when I couldn't sleep."

We were still wrapped in one another; lying in the wreckage of the mess we had made during our turbulent frenzy. Oak beams and splintered window frames surrounded us; bits of broken glass lay beneath our bodies; impervious to the sharp edges. We had destroyed the place in all but structure; it could collapse around us at any given moment, but neither one of us cared enough to go outside to the ocean bathed in twilight.

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

The corners of my mouth curled up. "I was afraid."

He was smiling too. "Of vampires?"

"No," I said, shaking my head minutely. "I was afraid of dying in my sleep."

He held our hands together, lifting them up and spreading my fingers out with his; making a mirror out of us both. He watched this with cloudy fascination; I had never seen his face so young. "I used to think that," he revealed. "I used to think that when I fell asleep, I would forget to breathe."

"What lullaby did your parents sing to you?"

He kissed my fingers individually, avoiding the answer. I so wished I could read his mind and see what he was thinking, even though it was so obviously drawn all over him. His warm mouth lingered on my index finger longer than it had with the others; he put it between his teeth and swirled his tongue around it. I let out a small, unstoppable moan.

"You wouldn't like to be in my head," he promised me, words faintly obscured by my fingers in his mouth.

I laughed. "I'm never _out_ of your head," I replied, and he relinquished my finger, kissing it before returning it me. He went to pull away, but I held onto him; keeping him close to me. "Don't," I said. "Let's not go back just yet."

He didn't have to ask, of course, what I meant. His burnt gold eyes darkened a fraction. "We have to think about it, Rose," he murmured, although he didn't look like he really believe that. He seemed as though he wanted me to come up with reasons why we could stay here, absorbed in one another.

"No, we don't," I promised him. "We're on the other side of the planet. We don't have to think about anything, except each other."

A small smile crept over his face and he kissed me again. I was taken aback by the sudden, strange youthfulness that had come over him. Edward was usually so withdrawn and controlled; breathtakingly stunning and God-like of course, but there was an oldness around his eyes that he couldn't seem to shake. Now it was gone; washed away by something that glowed. His skin was almost translucent with it; I wondered if I was glowing similarly.

"You always glow," he breathed into me. "You're the sun; the moon and all of the most beautiful, brilliant stars."

I laughed again. "Such prose, Edward Cullen."

"Doesn't make it any less true," he teased, moving his hand down from my chest, making intricate patterns on my skin with his fingers. If he could have bled ink, he would be sketching curling vines all over me and I would have let him. Tattoos of places he had touched me; maps of our intimacy. He moved agonisingly slow; his touch too light to be anything satisfactory, but not light enough for me to retain control of my emotions. The slow, focused administrations were driving me slowly mad; undoubtedly his plan from the beginning.

He continued to swirl the ends of his fingers over my skin with fascination, as if he was really making art. Maybe that was what he saw; perhaps he could see what he was drawing on me. My mind wandered as I lay my head back, closing my eyes and letting him trace invisible designs and shapes all over me. When he reached my outer thighs, I shivered involuntarily. He paused, lifting his fingers away.

He replaced them with his lips. Now he continued to draw the same patterns on me, instead using his lips and the tip of his tongue. The combination of too many pleasurable things were pooling increasingly in my stomach. Too much happiness, I suspected. Too much contact, without there _fully_ being contact. Too much closeness, without having him looking at me.

That was one thing I could never get enough of. His eyes. It was so clichéd and trite; to spend endless hours, sometimes days, brooding over the eyes of an infatuation or a lover - yet no such internal reprimand could ever convince me otherwise. His eyes were everything to me, I could look into them and see _him_. He would look back at me and then it would shock through us…the connection. This too, sounded trite. To call what existed between us a 'connection'. But as always, humanity was a few centuries behind us in these terms, and as of yet…still no words.

Upon hearing my thoughts, he looked up from where his attention had currently been heavily focused on my left knee. "I always think that," he said, pleasurably out of breath. "No words. Strange, isn't it?"

"How so?" I didn't really care, I just wanted to hear his voice…keep him looking at me. He smiled knowingly at me, biting his bottom lip as his fingers moved to the soft, very sensitive skin on the back of my knee. A weak spot, of sorts.

"Strange that humanity, the species who write love songs and love stories, cannot lend us words enough to articulate _this_." His eyes never left me; the voracious intensity between us demanded eye contact as much as possible. Meanwhile, his fingers stroked my skin in a torturous way as I struggled not to let it overcome me.

"Strange indeed," I managed, the last syllable cracking slightly. "Maybe we will live long enough to see linguistic validation."

"Maybe?" he echoed, cocking his head slightly to one side. "You plan on leaving?"

"Not all of us can see the future," I said, managing to sound eloquent considering what he was doing to back of my knee and how it was making me feel. "Nothing is certain."

"Rien n'est un certain ... rien, mais vous," he murmured, leaning down and dragging a trail of kisses from my knee to my ankle. I loved it when his mouth would curl around other languages. With nothing but time, we all had the opportunity to learn absorb endless knowledge; languages and music were _our _favourites. French was somewhat basic; rudimentary, but such a beautifully sculpted language that I could not object to hearing it.

"Rudimentary?" he said, pretending to sound offended. "I see that immortality has had no effect whatsoever upon your unimpressed nature. What language would you prefer?"

We were playing now, delaying the dark, impending moments until we would have to stop this…and start talking about the consequences of such delightful recklessness. I quickly threw the thought as far as it would go, and focused on being here with him; more importantly, keeping him here with me.

"I'm afraid, Mr Cullen," I said, sitting up to face him directly. He moved his hands down my shoulders, to my hands and contented himself with tracing circles on the palms of my hands while he waited for what I would next say, even though he already knew. "That I am considerably hard to please."

"I believe I may be up to the challenge. Ask what you will of me, my lady."

I smiled, and from my mind he drew his time-wasting objective.

Spanish. "Yo nunca sabía ir a misa hasta que yo supiera amar."

_I never knew how to worship until I knew how to love._

Portuguese. "Somos todos em miséria, mas alguns de nós estão vendo as estrelas."

_We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. _

Latin. "Ego sum in vos quod vos in mihi, mutuus in divinus diligo."

_I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love._

I was caught up in his impossibly charming voice, spilling out some of his favourite extracts from literature, expecting him to say yet another quote, perhaps in Russian this time.

"You are my life," he said quite plainly. "What language would you like that in?"

I answered by kissing him; unhurried and warm, as our kisses so rarely were. "English is fine."

We kissed for a while, wholly lost in one another. This was uncommon; usually kissing was a frantic struggle for more contact, until such a time as we could be as connected as possible; finally achieving the objective becoming one whole being. Kissing was always a prelude to something else; it hadn't been like this for decades. A more diluted form of intimacy; an irregularity in the normal fabric of our involvement. I kissed him until there was a strangely loud silence, filling up my head. I felt almost dizzy…too much happiness.

He withdrew unwillingly, his arms still enveloping me completely. I didn't know how I had come to be sitting on him, my legs wrapped around his back. He leaned into my neck and moved his head from side to side, rubbing his nose and lips across my collarbone.

"My Rose," he was murmuring. I could just feel his lips moving over my skin as he repeated the two words, like some brief, but significant catechism. "My Rose."

I leant down, seeking his mouth with my own. The need for contact was increasing, as unwanted thoughts continued to draw near. Calling me '_Rose__'_wasn't helping, but I liked the sound of it coming from him too much to protest.

When we kissed again, there was something else in it. Warmth replaced with heat; lingering indulgence replaced by concentrated urgency. As always, we were powerless in it's wake, as the desire ripped through me and, indisputably, through him as well. I could hear my own breathing, tight and constricted, mingling with his own. There was never enough oxygen; even though we didn't need it. I was dizzy again; light-headed with breathlessness and longing. My hands ran up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair as we kissed. The slow, playfulness was gone; in it's path, the burning need to consume one another in kisses and passion and closeness. It erupted through me, like a phoenix demanding rebirth. He was the whole universe, the focal point of any and all existence. He was my soul. He was _me_.

I kissed him harder; our bodies following the well worn ritual of trying to actually meld into one another. I could never get him close enough; never taste him enough, never have enough of him beneath or above me. It was always a desperate struggle to be closer, even when it simply wasn't possible anymore. Whatever pulsed through us, wanted to discard the skin and bones…it demanded unconditional connection; screamed to be made whole. It was impossible to disobey; like trying to defy the laws of gravity. When we could be alone, each embrace sent us into spirals of devastating ecstasy. The world faded willingly into massive insignificance. I would never understand how I could feel so much for him…my body and mind didn't feel like they could fully take it.

Sometimes, I _wasn__'__t _able to take it. Sometimes I would surrender to the sheer weight of the nameless emotions and I would feel myself crying. They were strange, sorrow-less tears. They were tears a human might cry upon first hearing an heartbreakingly beautiful piece of music. There was no stopping it; experiencing something so wholly derailing and earth-shattering…it happened of it's own accord. We would lay there; shaking violently, crying and drowning in the feelings that we denied for so long, until such a moment as we could finally be alone together. Everything we deprived ourselves of, everything we pretended wasn't screaming for indulgence - it exploded out of us in burning, aching bolts of heat. The afterglow of such an experience left us trembling and raw; totally astray in each other, no distinction between us as individuals.

We had cried hours ago, while the sun was still illuminating the world, hidden away by the rotting wooden roof of this lighthouse we were gradually destroying with our powerful desires. Now we were bathed in darkness; my favourite time. If I had my way, I would keep it as night forever.

We weren't crying now. The established connection had strengthened our endurance of something so explosive and devastating. We could tolerate it now, only just. I wondered if this is how it would be if we were to leave forever, and stay together.

I knew I shouldn't be thinking of it, because if it turned into a plan, then Alice would see it. But such rationality only comprised a tiny portion of my being just then. The rest of me was carved from recklessness and need. I couldn't force myself to care, even seeing Emmett's face in my head couldn't make me pull away.

But it was enough to make Edward tear himself from our kiss.

"What?" he gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Why are you…?"

"I wasn't planning it," I breathed hastily. "I know it can never happen. Imagining… very different from planning." I spoke fast, my reassurances were hollow and rushed; I only wanted him to keep kissing me, keep touching me. I needed the warmth of his body on mine, _in _mine. I needed it so much it made my chest ache.

I tried to renew the embrace, but he held me back. "Damn it, Rose," he rasped, closing his eyes tightly. "Why did you have to think of him?"

I realised that seeing Emmett in _his_ mind wouldn't exactly be an aphrodisiac to Edward, even if we weren't betraying him.

Dismissively, I said "Sorry."

I waited for him to come back to me; there was a darker part of me that I ignored. It was telling me not to wait for him, to grab him and kiss him and make him mine with or without his consent. I blocked it out, knowing exactly what part of me that was. I would never do that to him, even though it would be all too easy when he was like this…in such a state.

"Please," I said, running my trembling hands down his face. "_Please_."

I knew he felt it too; the same insistent need inside of us that command satisfaction and fulfilment. Every moment we were apart, it physically hurt. Every second that he spent not touching me, drove a very tangible pain through me. In this, we were truly helpless. Driven powerlessly through the motions of a phenomenon we knew so little about.

"Just," he said tightly, his eyes closed as my middle finger played across his lips. "Don't think about him again."

I slammed the thought from my mind and we clashed together again, with enough force to bruise, had we been less that immortal. After a few moments spent blindly struggling for contact and sensation, one of us gave in and fell backward with the other on top. It was only when I felt my back hit the floor that I realised it was me. The floor finally gave beneath us, and we went crashing through the rotten wood of the lighthouse floor, down to the level beneath us in a tumble of ardour and rapture. I wouldn't have cared if we had plummeted through the earth itself and down into hell. We were a tangled frenzy of heat and union; of magic and darkness, of passion and absolute, perfect desperation. We were everything and nothing; thrumming silence and shimmering delight.

There was no time to even contemplate the danger of what I was doing; the betrayal to my husband. In one smooth motion, he drove all thought from my mind and replaced it with blissful completion. We were - at last, it always seemed - connected. Only like this, could there be that higher understanding. Everything seemed possible when we were like this; inconceivably close, undeniably bound. Crying out in unison, the unbearably delicious friction adding to the pooling heat between us. It was more than physicality…more than making love and bodily connection and skin and kissing…when we were like this, I could _feel_ his soul and mine. They were one and the same. When we were this close, our souls could just about touch; two hands extended, fingertips brushing.

It was only during this time, that I _believed_ in God. Of such an existence, I was certain. But when I was with him like this…I _believed in God_. I believed in everything…anything. I believed in _him_, most of all. His energy pulsed through me as if it were my own; the reciprocity staggered me. I couldn't hear his thoughts, but I could _feel_ that he felt the same as I did.

We left the world behind us, creating our own universe, of which we were the centre. The energy and heat between us, could have created new life…new planets…a new existence.

There was no gravity, no oceans, no sky, no earth. There was only us, and everything that might have existed outside of us, fell into shocking insignificance.

* * *

Later on that night, as he sat side by side watching the waves crash gently onto the small pebbles of the beach, I waited for him to speak. I hunched my legs together, leaning my cheek on my knee and waited. He was looking above the ocean at the sky, sprinkled with so many stars it looked almost messy. Echoes of dying lights; pinpricks of hope in the blueish-blackness. I could have thought of a million quixotic metaphors for the stars, and yet not able to form a single word about what we were now facing.

Dawn was approaching, with it the impending obligation to deal with what we had done. Certainly it was not the first time we had done this, nor - I could not help but think - would it be the last. Of this game, we were well acquainted. But this time, we had crossed a barrier without hope or care of returning.

Even as my mind articulated these thoughts, in the language I had been raised surrounded by, I realised that I didn't deserve _hope_. I deserved to go back and find that Alice had told everyone. I deserved to be hated and despised; to be made to see his face when he would look at me and realise that I _had_ betrayed him and that I had done so with undeniable, inexpressible pleasure.

I knew Edward could hear my thoughts, but he said nothing. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. Maybe he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about mine.

But even as I thought it, he nudged his shoulder into mine for a brief moment reassuringly; silently showing me that he _did_ care…of course he cared.

It was worse than anything I had felt in a long time. The guilt was massively amplified by the simple fact that this occasion had been like no other. I could never recall being so _free_ with him. There always had to be limits, even when we were miles away together. We had to be restrained, because we were in the same country…there had always been danger and we were neither of us stupid enough to find that danger exhilarating. It was always a precaution; a warning of what would happen if we let it rule us completely. So we allowed it more or less free reign, we allowed ourselves the connection, the elation, the bliss.

This had been different. It had never been like this.

And now it was all the more painful because I knew exactly what he was thinking. The same as I was.

There was no way Alice couldn't have seen it.

I had been running it over and over in my mind, trying and failing to find some glimmer of hope that she would miss it. Because we weren't changing anything; because she tried to avoid seeing anything sexual in our lives, because we were so far away even. I had exhausted every possibility, and the conclusion was the same stony, unyielding one that I was sure Edward had come to.

She knew.

If she knew, it was only a matter of time before everyone else knew.

Alice, what I knew of her, was a profoundly good person; prone to slight mischief and whimsicality, but still deeply moral. If she knew what we were doing, there would be no grey area like there was with Jasper. She would tell Carlisle, who would feel duty bound to tell Emmett.

_Emmett_. Jesus Christ, I knew I deserved hell. I knew it.

It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation, that Edward didn't contradict me.

The ocean continued to break and recoil in front of us. The sky sat patiently above; looking down at us with clinical interest. I wondered what the world above saw us as; how we were viewed from great, invisible heights. Did it look down and ponder upon the strangeness; two creatures risking everything to be with one another, it must have looked like insanity.

I didn't want to speak - my mouth was dry, my stomach clenched in painful knots. Eventually, he breathed in and spoke.

"They'll know by now." His voice was unimaginably grim; void of any hope. "Which leaves us with two choices."

Oh God. He was going to say it. But what difference did it make now? Alice had to have known by this point; planning wouldn't alert her to anything she might be unaware of.

Without realising I was doing so, I voiced those two options. "Leave or return."

This…whatever it was, had reached some sort of defining moment - a breaking point, of sorts. We could either leave together, write to them and tell them that we were never returning. Live with the knowledge of what we had done, but far away. Or we could return and face the consequences.

I thought I would be more in favour of the primary alternative, but in truth they were equally unappealing. Equally ominous. Here we were together, forced to make a decision that would forever change everything. My skin crawled at the thought of Emmett's face; the look in his eyes.

Beside me, his jaw was clenching. I longed to reassure him somehow; touch him and let him know that I was here for him, that I felt exactly the same way. I didn't need to, of course and it was for the best anyway. Physical contact between us wasn't the best idea right now.

"It comes down to this," he said in a low voice. "We leave together, as you have already considered, or we go back together."

"Or alone," I managed to say hollowly. That was another, far bleaker option. That one of us go back, the other never to see the family again. I already knew if it came to that, he would insist on leaving - his decision based on the morals of chivalry, but born out of fear. If one of us would leave, it would most definitely be him. I couldn't blame him.

He shook his head vehemently. "No…whatever we do, we do it together."

"It would be easier to leave," I said quietly. "Easier for us."

"But so unfair to them."

"We'll have to leave anyway," I pointed out, swallowing the lump in my throat. "We're going back, only to be sent away again. What's the point?"

He looked at me for first time since we had come to sit here in shocked, terrified silence. His eyes were profoundly dark.

"Emmett wouldn't send you away." There were traces of bitterness in there.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't be able to suffer his forgiveness even if it was offered. I couldn't live with him, knowing what I did to him."

"What _we_ did to him."

I understood the bitterness. While Emmett might forgive, if never forget, _my _betrayal - Edward would be a different story. No matter what I said, Edward would get most of the blame.

But there was no '_would__'_anymore, only '_will__'_.

Edward _will _be blamed. We _will _be sent away.

Certainty had never been less welcome.

He didn't reply to that; we fell into silence, each of us spiralling through an unstoppable inundation of desolation and despair. Every good memory was choking me, drenched in sorrow and self loathing. Only once before had I felt this wretched; only at one other time had I felt so ashamed and so broken.

"Don't," he begged. "Please don't."

I discarded the thoughts, and tried to close my mind off to him. I knew how much he hated his gift at times like these. When he was made to endure my suffering as well as his own, more particularly when he was forced to relive certain memories.

It was strange. Thirty years of living with it, of knowing that it wasn't my fault - that it was nothing to be ashamed of…and yet, it was still a frequent thought. I was as healed as it was possible to be. I loved and was loved in return, I had no reservations owing to it…I held nothing back. Enduring rape and consequentially death had not affected my ability to love nor to experience it. Not any more.

But it was always there, in the back of my mind. What he did…what_ they_ did. I realised some years ago that it would never fully leave. Like a wound, it would heal, but it would scar. That scar would become a part of me; a part of me I didn't like, but something I would have to accept. It no longer hurt, but it was there nonetheless.

I was drifting away; preferring to reminisce about the brutal attack I had suffered at the hands of my fiancé, rather than face the crisis at hand.

"I think," he said slowly. "We should go back."

Even though I had been ambivalent about either decision, the moment he said it I was against it. Certainly I was no coward, but this was something very different. Something I had no desire to experience. I felt as though all my years had melted away and I was nine years old again, waiting to be rebuked for something so serious that my mother would defer until my father arrived home. Just like then, I wanted to run from the situation. But I couldn't.

With a notable hitch in my voice, I answered "Alright."

"Whatever happens," he said, shaking his head. "I love you more than I'll every be able to say. Whatever happens, that will never change."

I couldn't answer him; thankful that he knew that I felt the same. The waves were coming closer, another few minutes and the water would be brushing against my toes. I welcomed the coldness; the distraction. Anything but this suffocating silence.

"I can't believe we let it come to this," I said, gazing out blindly at the dark, majestic ocean. "How…how have we come to be here?"

It wasn't rhetorical, I genuinely couldn't understand it. Through everything I had seen, experienced and learned; I still had nothing that would lend me understanding of this. More so, I couldn't see now - in the lucidity of retrospect - how we had let it come to this. I tried to understand why I had let it go this far, when we lived with a prescient. It was beyond stupidity - it was what I promised myself I would never allow to happen.

And still…even while I was contemplating the precise moments of our downfall…I _still_ longed to touch him. Every moment that we were this close and so alone, seemed a moment wasted because we were not touching. I could feel the heat coming from his skin, though to a human it would be freezing. What did that matter? When was a human opinion on the warmth (or lack thereof) of Edward Cullen's skin ever going to be relevant? My mind was drifting away, searching for distractions. Anything but reality.

And there we sat, trembling with the effort of not touching one another. Shaking, not because of the cold, but because of the _warmth_. Strange, mysterious beings.

But we _were _strange, even for vampires.

The ocean rolled in soothingly and I allowed my mind to glide gently into warmer areas, where such troubles dissolved willingly like sugar in hot water.

Two beings without centre, leaning towards one another for constancy, to keep from falling and crumbling. Two beings, longing to become one as they stumble closer and if they do not catch in the middle, they will fall and perish for the fall will be from such great heights. Two structures, flawed inside and breaking apart will collapse without foundations. The two beings lean close, giving into the gravity of what channels through them and they fall…only minutely, because one will catch the other and they will meet mid air. The two beings will connect…adjoin and become one strong, whole body able to withstand even the strongest of storms. The gravity of intimacy, the pull of need and want that arches their bodies into strangeness and warmth. We split ourselves open; halved and raw for the other. Spinning and aimless; baseless and groundless. Chaotic and stubborn, creatures driven and moved by desire and desperation. Trickles of silver water and bolts of golden light - clumsy, genuine need and smooth, calculated want. Love that stretches like warm, thick toffee over distances and then snaps when allowed to cool down. The sounds of his mouth when he says my name. _His_ name and the way my lower spine tingles when I get to say it. Something so simple…his name.

Edward Cullen. I could say it forever; each repetition had exactly the same effect on my body, my soul. I could have said it over and over again and the words would have lost no meaning. When I was younger, I would repeat words like 'gate' or 'mirror' over and over until they were completely meaningless - just sounds coming out of my mouth. His name was different.

"Come back," he said softly. "Come back to me, Rose."

I did. I blinked and the ocean came into view once more. My disturbing, murky reverie melted away and cold, harsh reality returned. Maybe I was losing my mind; maybe I willing it away. Either way, I could feel the enticing anaesthesia of madness offering to sully the certainty. It was an undeniable lure, but he would never allow that to happen. I let my unrelated, nebulous trance fade away into nothingness and returned to him.

"Stay with me, please," he beseeched. "I can't do this without you."

"I'm here," I offered, even though I knew it was little comfort. "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughed darkly. "Believe me, I understand the wish to let it take over. Plead insanity and not be lying. I've heard that it happens to some of us; those who can't stand the idea of immortality. Carlisle thought you might…when he first made you. He thought he'd made someone who'd been through such a horrific ordeal that the idea of living with it forever, might drive you to insanity. Or worse."

"No," I said, as contrastingly pleasantly cool salt water just brushed the tip of my toes. "I've never felt like this. Even then, even knowing that I'd live forever, without children or hope of happiness…I never considered letting it all just fall away."

"But you are now?"

I tried to think how best to phrase my answer and then gave up instantly. "How can I look him in the eye, seeing how I've made him feel?"

We were neither of us looking at each other. It was better this way, safer. "Immortal, lethal creatures capable of ending life with God-like swiftness and yet here we are, wracked with guilt over romantic betrayal."

"Thirty years is hardly a mere 'romantic betrayal'. Thinking about you in such a way would constitute as romantic betrayal. What we've done is something else. I can't even begin to think of what to call it."

"You know what the worst part is?" he asked, in a bitterly rhetorical way. "That if Alice hadn't come to be here…if no-one knew, I'd be happier than I ever thought possible."

He just had to say it, didn't he? Why couldn't he stop talking about it and just focus on the devastating crisis at hand? Didn't he know I felt _exactly the same_? That I hated Alice for coming into our lives and making it so that we had to feel shame, instead of elation at what we had just experienced? For a mind reader, he could be incredibly dense sometimes.

But that was one of a million things I had come to learn about him during our time together and, more notably, apart.

Edward was a strange, complex being. His exterior showed kindness, compassion and, of course, razor sharp intelligence. This intelligence was a birthright; not something he had come to learn with years of endless free time. He was naturally intelligent; the kind of person who had _always_ loved learning. Outwardly, he was quiet and pleasant; he loved his family. He did his best to ignore our thoughts and do right by us. He would use his talent to read the minds of others, to see if they would be a potential danger. Sometimes a human would accidentally stumble onto the truth of the matter. Edward would inform us, and we would be gone in a day. To the outside world, Edward and I did not get along well. They were convinced that we were forcing politeness and civility in place of hostility and coldness. We rarely spoke to one another and never touched.

But beneath that, he was a multifaceted complication; his own worst enemy in most cases. Firstly, he had a deep propensity to brood. He could spend months, sometimes _years_ pondering over something that upset him and it was usually always theological. I knew with great certainty that Edward believed we were soulless. He had come to believe, after so many years, that we were damned creatures; unloved by God. He would read endless books on the subject; Athanasius, John Owen, Thomas F. Torrance, Karl Barth, Thomas Aquinas. He would spend days poring over the works of Socrates, Plato, Locke, Rousseau and even Leonardo da Vinci. Endless hours of reading and writing; scrawling down any relevance to his existential crisis. Sometimes this would soothe him; other times it would fail and he would get this look in his eyes, like the cold, concrete affirmation of our damnation had been carved in one his many books. I would think things around him, trying to reassure him that we weren't soulless…that we were beautiful, intelligent creatures capable of fierce love and affection. He refused to look at me, or make any sign of acknowledgement. I knew what he was thinking; if we weren't soulless, how could we be doing this to them?

He was complicated in other ways too. His loneliness was painfully obvious, simply because of how hard he tried to hide it. I knew in the first years of my marriage to Emmett that he deeply resented me for it. It might be easier to bear, if I had been similarly alone. But I wasn't. He was the only one without his 'soul mate.' The only one condemned to spend eternity alone, save for the stolen hours we had together. He would go to the roof, alone, and watch the world exist without him. Or he would go to the piano and compose music; each key expressing what he never could. Sometimes he would write songs; wordless movements filled with endless combinations of the most heartbreakingly beautiful notes and I would know - without knowing _how_ - that it was for me. Written for me, about me or us. Emmett would make jokes about it, saying that Edward should just marry the piano and be done with it. We would all laugh, but I would know what it meant when he played certain songs. He tended to play _'__Clair De Lune__'_when he was angry with me (because I hated it) and '_Reverie__'_when I was upset and needed cheering up (because I loved it). He played fast and slow, altering the rhythm of many pieces to suit his mood. He would elaborate; throw in notes that the original composers had not thought to do. He would play incessantly until whatever he was feeling, went away. Then he would come back to us all, smiling and talkative.

It was only a few years ago that we discovered a fantastic way to pass time together; baseball. It was really Esme's idea, one stormy day. We realised that we could play the game, using the thunder to our advantage; as cover. This became an instant sensation in our family, even though we weren't a very big team. We would take it in turns to swap teams; Emmett and I couldn't be on the same team, obviously and nor could Carlisle and Esme which meant that everyone took turns in having Edward on their team. Regardless of this, it was still extremely fun. Edward was very fast and soon he and Emmett found ways of cheating amongst themselves. I grew fond of watching them compete, laugh and knock each other around. Their camaraderie was a beautiful to observe and during these hours, I managed to forget everything bad and focus only on what an amazing family I was a part of.

Of course, sometimes we fought. We had to, in order to avert suspicion. Carlisle's perceptiveness was an inconvenience to us and we had to fabricate whole fights out of nothing but thin air, whenever he would catch us looking at one another. I would always start it, selecting some appropriate issue and then we would fight. Not physically, of course - just with words. Put into opposition, we had to inclination to be deeply cruel to one another. We were both excellent wordsmiths and we knew what areas could cut the other with startling precision. Sometimes I forgot to hold back and I would say something genuinely hurtful. His face stayed stony; cold and shuttered, but I knew I had hurt him. Only very occasionally he would say something personal back to me, something only I would understand and I would know that we had to stop.

Other times, he was cursed by something completely different; an innate desire to help those he loved. For instance, during the first ten years of his time with us, Emmett came to seriously struggle with the idea of never tasting human blood again. Although the guilt of his first kill was substantial, there was still a part of him that fought the shackles of inhibition. Edward took it upon himself to help Emmett through these years, almost single handed. It was something Emmett was deeply ashamed of, and Edward was one of two people (myself included) who he would speak to about it. Edward pulled him through it…brought him out the other side. His determination to help him was unwavering; it was _him_ in the end who saved Emmett from himself. I knew, regardless of the very obvious reason why Edward might go out of his way to help Emmett, that it was because of his nature, rather than some secret debt to his brother.

Another example, was me.

This was something I still struggled to fully understand. There were endless lists of the ways in which Edward Cullen had helped me, all of them private of course. This one, however, stayed with me.

The first decade bore witness to his determination to help me through something I assumed I was done with. His mind reading ability saw through my smiles and laughter and he knew something was wrong. During our brief hours together, sometimes we would manage to talk. A few times, four years after my demise, he would make me talk about it.

I knew that it was agony for him; more so than it was for me, but he still asked me questions - cold, clinical questions that left no detail spared. Such was his determination, that I didn't refuse…or at least, not after a while. When I had told him everything, I asked why had he made me tell him that? What was to be gained from such contemplations?

He had twined his fingers through my hair, tangling them so I could never free myself, and smiled sadly. "Every man must face his hell," he had said gently.

There were many possible meanings in that, most of which meant that he was strengthening himself against the idea of it, but I knew it was all for my benefit. Emmett, for all his integrity and goodness, could not allow me to speak of it with him. It hurt him too much. But that was something Edward could bear. He could let me talk of it - even forced me to do so when reluctance and shame repressed certain aspects of the ordeal. He could endure that, so that I could be rid of it fully.

Just another endless side to the prism of complications that was Edward Cullen.

And here we sat, together as we so rarely were. Edward and Rosalie; two counterparts of the utmost betrayal. Flawed, leaning structures and everything else that I had ever thoughts about our weird, utterly destructive yet undeniably necessary relationship.

Here we sat; ocean before us, dawn only moments away. There couldn't have been a more perfect scene, a more glorious sunrise about to blossom. There had never been two such as we were sitting at this beach. There never would be again.

There was a wrenching agony in my chest; a place where my heart would have been hammering against my ribs. Even in my mind, there was no way I was capable of rationalising this. We had overestimated ourselves; even as immortals, we were not able to cope with this. It was beyond endurance. There was a very real possibility that my chest, my body - my soul - was about to rip itself apart.

Even though my mind must have been as clear to him as La Traviata with front row seats, he didn't say anything. He didn't touch me or offer solace. A small selfish part of me resented his rationality. But then perhaps he was just as wrapped up in his own thoughts as I was.

The water was around my knees when I decided it had gone on long enough. With a reserve of strength I genuinely didn't know I had, I managed to stand up and announce that we were going back. Together.

He didn't follow me straight away; reluctance radiating strongly. He could be reluctant now, because I had taken control. In many ways we were balanced; he could only want something if I forbade it, he could only be selfish if I was being selfless and vice versa.

I shook myself hard, trying to dismiss this warped sentimentality. Where we were going, such musings would be of little help.

"Maybe we don't deserve happiness," I said before I could stop it. His mouth tightened and he hunched his knees a little closer.

"Maybe. We can go through all the 'maybes' if you want. We can speculate and theorise while we're on a different continent, but it's not going to change the situation. We're procrastinating."

"Of course we are. I'd stay here with you forever, given the chance." The chance to live without guilt.

Edward took a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding it in for a while, before exhaling. I knew, by habit, that when he did that - it meant he had come to a decision, and it would commence as soon as the last trace of oxygen was gone.

"We should go," he said. I could hear the hollows in his voice; gaping holes of doubt and fear. I felt almost sick; numb and queasy. But he was right; we couldn't stay here. The ones we loved deserved an explanation; a chance to confront us.

And after everything I had done to Emmett, I could not deny him that right, even if it would kill me.

* * *

**-Jasper-**

_The minute sounds of everything, when I'm alone and the world sleeps. The air whispers, even in the midst of moratoria. The light sings. The floor, ceiling and walls watch me with detachment, for they have seen greater sights than I. Colour tricks me, shifting in and out of perception with friendly guile. My eyes transform light into darkness; my bones creak when I move, and my tongue is aware of every nuance of my mouth. _

_The once foreboding darkness is warm to my touch; bathes me in its velvet depths and rocks me in it's arms, glad to have me alone for once. Everything comes alive, but nothing moves. The night breathes life into everything - giving it character and silent energy. The soul of a thing smiles at me and I sit with my back against the wall and make up reasons why. _

_Their veins beneath the skin run like rivers; electricity through metal. They breathe everything in to stay alive, to maintain the thick, echoing heartbeat in their ears - to push the blood around the thin, collapsible tunnels that feed everything - the air - into them. _

_We breathe each other and so become one another. We breathe in life and the air and the person they kiss, and become them…for as long as contact will endure. _

I hated it. Even rereading it, I knew that I didn't like it. Sometimes, I would let myself write without really realising what I was writing and, upon critical inspection, I would realise that I had written something that caused strange hostile feelings to stir. _Too_ personal. _Too _private. I screwed the paper up and threw it in the bin beside the desk.

Behind me, was everything I cared about.

"Hmm," she said, wonderingly. "A different plane. Again."

My hand jolted slightly, a curling _'__S__'_turning into a scrawl. "Alice," I said in a well practised tone of serenity. "You promised."

She laughed softly. "I'm not looking, it just affects their arrival back. A promise is a promise."

I lightly sensed the air around her - her aura - just to see if she was lying. I hated that I even had to do so; Alice would never lie to me. But so much rested on this remaining a secret, that I was driving myself a little mad. In essence, I was being selfish. I wouldn't even bother to attempt denial. I had my own, specifically selfish reasons for going out of my way to make Alice think she should try and give them some privacy. I knew that her gift was involuntary, of course; but she had stopped looking for them, stopped focusing on their future. All she knew was that they were coming back. The times of their arrivals continued to shift, but this was meaningless. If they were coming back - then they were over the worst. Alice couldn't see the past, after all.

Of course, there was always the problem of getting to them in time before they arrived. I knew I should be waiting by the phone so I could be the one to drive to the airport. I knew this, and yet I was away from the phone; here, with my Alice in our room. Writing.

It was very simple. If they were discovered, more than their atrocious indiscretions could come out. I couldn't lose Alice, so it made sense for me to cover for them. Keeping Alice distracted was tricky, but not impossible. I was a weakness of hers. She would focus on my wellbeing and future, just fractionally mind, above everyone else's. I had used this to my advantage, although I despised myself for it. I played a very dangerous game.

I allowed myself to feel the hunger, to actually plan - solidly, with intention - to kill someone. The difference was that I planned to tell her about it. This altered the course - therefore she saw it. Dancing on a razor blade indeed.

So because of this, she kept her focus on me. I suggested that she let them have their privacy, and Alice - having seen firsthand how cruel and personal they could be to one another when fighting - agreed. She was more concerned for me anyway. I couldn't believe it had worked. Alice's visions were nothing if not imperfect, but this seemed a little too lucky.

So I was reduced to sensing her emotions; trying to detect a non-existent lie.

They would be here in a little less than two days. We were all awaiting their return with anticipation. Emmett missed her more than he could say, although he continued to be blasé about it; making jokes and laughing about how if anyone could bring him to his senses, it was Rosalie.

I wondered if they thought we knew. I had tried to imagine them being a little more careful - considering that this might be something that Alice could pick up on. But I knew deep down that I was crediting them control more than they deserved. So they must have thought that we, by means of Alice, knew. I could get to them first, tell them everything and nothing bad would occur…with any luck.

It was still a strange and suspicious miracle that Alice hadn't seen it. Even trying to ignore something wouldn't stop her from seeing it if it was of significant importance. The only thing I could think of was that it wouldn't change anything. Edward would come back and everything would be as it was before. The dangerous loophole.

Without having to indicate verbally, I felt her mood shift. Her hands were sliding around me from behind, her lips pressing to my neck gently.

"My genius," she breathed. "My boy."

I reached up behind me and put one arm around her neck, smiling. "You want to dance?"

She laughed a little, tiny vibrations of the sensation trilling across my collarbone. The fact that there was no music meant nothing. To Alice, there was always music.

"I thought you'd never ask," she murmured into my skin, and in one smooth movement, she pulled me up and into her embrace. We danced together to the invisible rhythm, following the movement of our bodies…swaying to music that no-one else could hear.

* * *

**-Emmett-**

Impatient didn't really cover it. Impatience made me think of a child and there was nothing childlike about how much I wanted her to be here. I missed her like I missed the better part of myself and her arrival back home was taking too damned long! Why hadn't I gone with Jasper? I should have, I shouldn't have offered to stay home and hang Goddamned streamers with Alice and Esme! It was stupid, _I _was stupid and now I was paying the price for it.

I smiled cheerfully at Alice as she stood on my shoulder to hang brightly coloured streamers from the chandelier. This was all her idea of course, to plan a welcome home party. Myself, I wanted nothing less than my Rose in my arms and a good few days alone away from everyone else. I was shaken up by how much I had missed her; it was bordering on unhealthy.

Which was something I greatly disliked. One thing Rosalie and I weren't, was unhealthy. You read about these tragic star cross'd death-stricken lovers - no, me and Rose were different. We were perfect balance. Perfect in everything except perfection. Perfect _because_ we fought and _because_ she was arrogant and I teased her about it. Perfect _because _we weren't perfect, but these imperfections did nothing to tarnish just how much I damned well loved her.

We had been apart before; sure we had. Once a year, she'd go back to her home town and Edward would go to make sure that nothing bad happened. This wasn't something I envied him; going back to the place where…no. I couldn't do that. Much as I loved her, I couldn't go back there and maintain my sanity. Just thinking about it was enough to make me shudder. So yeah, we'd been apart - one, maybe two days at a time. Never more than that.

This was different - I missed her so much I could almost taste it. I felt restless, fidgety; I hunted, but I lost my focus. I didn't want to read or play or do anything fun without her. The last week or so had dragged on awfully and now she was only minutes away and I was going out of my mind with impatience.

Even though it still wasn't accurate.

Alice leapt nimbly down from my shoulder; she'd heard the same thing as me.

A car on gravel.

"They're back!" I shouted, completely unnecessarily. "Carlisle, Esme - they're back!"

I ran out of the house, across the gravel and there she was….my Rose. She smiled when she saw my and before we collided, she jumped straight into my arms, without so much as a "hello!".

We were kissing _finally_. I turned on the spot as we kissed, lost in the joy of being back together again. Her lips tasted of salt - no doubt from the ocean spray. She was kissing me like we'd been away from each other for months, but then I was hardly complaining.

"I love you," I muttered against her lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you. Never leave me again, I missed you way too much!"

Somewhere near us, someone laughed. Edward maybe.

"You think they missed each other?" he said with affectionate sarcasm. I made a mental note to punch him on the shoulder later, but was currently too caught up in my wife…my _everything_…to care.

* * *

**-Edward-**

The tiniest little motes of dust were dancing around me. Dust - mainly comprising of _human _skin - was a rare sight in this house. I watched with benign fascination as they swept around me where I sat, circling me with curiosity. Carlisle's study was very clean, so these particles of dust were a mystery.

_Benign_ fascination, because I was still in shock. I couldn't work up any hostile suspicion towards the dust because of the gift we (more accurately _I_) had been granted.

We had returned home to find that all of our fears were groundless; that no-one knew anything.

At first, I admit I had been disbelieving. Jasper coming to tell us this made me question the veracity of such information. But all doubt had been swept away the moment I read his mind. He had been telling the truth. Rosalie and I had gone through absolute, undiluted hell for nothing. Maybe there was a God after all.

Or maybe Jasper just didn't want Alice to find out about him.

The latter was more obvious, but just then I was happy to be ambivalent about the whole thing.

So sitting there in Carlisle's oddly dusty study, watching dust swirl around me beautifully, I decided to be happy for once and just accept it.

"Edward," my Father said, drawing my attention back to him. "You were saying?"

I had lost my train of thought. "Yes," I said, looking away from the dust. "I was saying sorry. Really Carlisle, I am sorry for leaving. I was being stupid, I told the others before I left why I was leaving and they tried to talk me out of it. I needed perspective, I see that now."

He nodded, fingertips touching together like a skeletal church roof. "I see. And you feel better now? For having had some time…alone?"

"I do," I said, trying to keep the shocked happiness out of my voice. I never thought I would ever be so happy to see Emmett kissing her. However much I was involved with Rosalie and however much _it_ took over my life; my family were still fundamentally important to me. When Emmett had later punched my shoulder and smiled at me, welcoming me back, I hadn't been able to hide my reciprocal smile.

There was a _lot_ to think about. I knew that. Even more to talk about. Coming so close to being discovered had altered my priorities. I didn't know in what way yet, but I knew something was going to change. Maybe it was seeing Rosalie and Emmett…maybe it was hearing their thoughts, something about Rosalie wanting to live away from the family with just Emmett for a while.

"So you're staying?"

I hated that he had to ask. "Of course," I replied easily. "Where else would I go? Everything I care about is here."

So very true.

"Good," he said, rising from his chair to hug me. I met him halfway, impossibly happy to hear how much he had missed me. They were thoughts I never thought I'd hear from him again. "Good."

When we parted, he patted me on the back. "We've all missed you. It's wonderful to have the whole family together again."

"I've missed you all so much," I said honestly. "I even missed this town."

He shrugged. "Don't get too attached."

"Oh?"

"Alice told me that Jasper's been dealing with some very strong yearnings lately. She thinks it might be a Tua Cantante of his."

A term I had only heard once before, referring to a time when Emmett had struggled - and failed - not to kill a young man, who's blood was so beyond irresistible…beyond anything we could all control. The young man had died, we had moved away. I realised that this was what Jasper had concocted to sufficiently distract Alice from foreseeing anything concerning Rosalie and I.

"I see. Has he…?" I asked, already know that he hadn't.

"No," Carlisle replied, worry etched into his slight frown. "But it's unfair to ask him to linger."

"Of course," I said sympathetically. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"Not specifically, just somewhere that's away."

I read his indecision. "Forks?" I asked, slightly bemused. "Again? A little too early to return there again, don't you think?"

He sighed; I knew he liked the small, rainy grey town in Washington where we had spent some time a few years ago. Even despite the mild hostility from other 'non-human' inhabitants, we had all liked it. There was a quaint smallness about it that, when coupled with the rain and clouds, made it a perfect place for us to live. But it was too soon to go back there, not enough time had passed between visits. Strange, I thought, for Carlisle to be thinking of returning.

"You're right of course," he relented, squeezing my shoulder. "It's good to have you back son. I'm glad everything is alright."

Not, I felt certain, as glad as I was.

* * *

_A/N - My dearest, darling readers - I am SO sorry this took to long to post, I can only describe it as the literary equivalent of giving birth. There was consant rewrites with this - very difficult - chapter and only now is it finally something that I like. I really hope you enjoy it, I worked myself to the bone with this one and hope it was worth it. I'm SOO beyond tired now, so I'll leave you with a massive thanks and a plea to PLEASE REVIEW! I need reviews, please!_

_Thanks all so much for reading, you're all angels._

**Translations:**

1st quote - "I never knew how to worship until I knew how to love." _-Henry Ward Beecher_

2nd quote - "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." _-Oscar Wilde. _

3rd quote - "I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love." _-William Blake. _

'_Au clair de la lune_, _mon ami Pierrot_. _Prête-moi ta plume_, _pour écrire un mot_. _Ma chandelle est morte_, _je n'ai plus de feu_. _Ouvre-moi ta porte_ _pour l'amour de Dieu_.'

'Under the moonlight, my friend Pierrot. Lend me your pen, so I could write a word. My candle is dead, I've no more light. Open your door for me, for the love of God.' - a common French lullaby.

"_Rien n'est un certain ... rien, mais vous."_

"Nothing is certain…nothing, except you."


	22. Chapter 22: Significance

**-Chapter Twenty Two: Significance-**

_(A very 'significant' A/N before this chapter. This story is in canon, and will continue to be so, however - I have hit a small snag. Midnight Sun has caused unforeseen problems for me. Anyone who has read it will understand why. So, my plan is as follows. I would ask that people please mildly disregard Midnight Sun, but only Edward's thoughts on the subject. I can still work it in perfectly with canon, allowing that Edwards thoughts be ignored. All the elements will be included - if very slightly remodelled - just not all of his thoughts. Now that's out of the way…enjoy!)_

*

-**Edward-**

After 1965, points of significance in my life became hard to distinguish. I suppose they existed; after all, I hadn't stood around aimlessly for forty years while everyone else experienced life and love (the latter referring to two people in particular). I lived, I hunted, I read, I went to school with my 'siblings', I achieved greatness; I marvelled at the world as it changed, technology moving startlingly fast. I co-existed with people that I loved, my family. All the beautiful minutia in between significant, central moments blended into a pleasantry - into a watered down sort of happiness.

I bore witness to incredible things. On July 20 1969, a man walked on the moon. This amazed me really, for although the technology had been building up to it, I still looked at the moon at night with wonder and awe. To imagine that a man had walked upon it, made me uneasy as well as stunned. We had already seen the Hiroshima bomb, and now there was a sense of something worse coming. Genetic power was steadily growing through the decades. Man's thirst for control and supremacy was overwhelming to witness, especially as an outsider. I grew pleased, for the first time, to be able to stand outside of the human race and look in with mild disdain at the carnage they voluntarily wrought upon themselves. As I watched the clocks change and the years click silently into a new Millennium, I knew I was arrogant of my immortality now; not that I would ever tell anyone.

There was less monumental moments, more insular to our own family. We experienced trials within our own community. We would have run-ins with our own kind; sometimes they were pleasant, we would play baseball together and discuss others they had met along the way. Occasionally, they were hostile. One or two newborns would cause significant trouble for us and once…only once…we had witnessed firsthand what happened to out of control newborns.

This was how I came to meet the Volturi, and pleasant little Jane.

This could technically be deemed significant, still it was nothing but a memory and a warning. Not significant to me. Not even worth fully recollecting.

And then there was Rosalie. Rosalie who, even after seventy three years, remained the very definition of _significance_. Rosalie who I had witnessed marry her husband six times now. Rosalie….who defied all articulation.

Perhaps the lack of significance in the last forty years was because of the lack of Rosalie…more accurately, my involvement with Rosalie. I couldn't place any significance on anything, because it hadn't been with _her_.

Not to say that we had somehow learned the value of abstinence. There had been stolen moments, even days when we had been together. Of course there had - how could I possibly exist without? They had been fewer, spread thinly across the years. Although I grew to accept it in many ways, a part of me deeply resented it. That I could only touch her every two years or so…to say it was difficult was a massive understatement.

No, the lack of significance was that as I watched her with Emmett, Alice with Jasper and Esme with Carlisle…I began to understand that the only thing worth living for, was the person you loved. All else melted away into colossal irrelevance. The world began to look like a stage; a backdrop for the important thing in your life. The person you loved.

And she wasn't mine.

In many ways this was untrue. She was mine in her mind, in her soul…her very being. I felt it thrum through her as it did me whenever we accidentally looked at each other and forgot to maintain the cold façade. What we felt for each other was utterly reciprocal. Equal in that, if nothing else.

But in all the significant ways, she was someone else's. Emmett's. Not mine.

In a few years I would attend their wedding again. I would wear a suit, stand next to Emmett while he recited their love in a beautiful, eternal catechism. I would have to see her in that dress again, and think of when I had first seen her in a wedding dress; terrifying and mesmerising. I would see them kiss, see the happiness on both their faces and then smile for them both. Then they would leave us for a year or so, as they sometimes did. I knew why Rosalie suggested to Emmett that they sometimes live away from us, we had discussed this during one of the rare times we were alone and impossibly lost in one another. Sometimes it grew too hard to stay away from each other; so they would move away, live on their own, claiming the need for privacy.

And all this happened, while I did what?

Faced with this insignificance, I began to seriously question myself. Not even the simple existentialism that I usually brooded over. I questioned myself completely. I tore myself apart to see what was inside and then sewed it all back together before anyone could see…before I could see that without _her_, I wasn't really anything anymore.

As the years began to lose their colour, I realised that maybe I was doomed to an insignificance existence; forever fated to watch the happiness of others, and plan when I could steal time and be with someone else's wife just so I could feel _alive_.

So might I have been forever, were it not for that very ordinary Monday in Forks.

* * *

It began with such routine normalcy; so much so that I should have known really, for it's those moments when you least expect it that everything changes. I watched the sun rise over grey, wet Forks, Washington and I changed clothes again. I ignored the dusty mirror in my room and my hair by proxy. It was messy again, but I didn't care. I had been letting it look like this for months now in an attempt to get the hordes of hormonal teenage girls off my back. Of course, this seemed to make it worse now; my messy, unkempt hair was the source of their daydreams even more so than it had been before. I wouldn't have minded if I hadn't had to listen to it.

With a shudder, I grabbed my bag and books - I knew each word on each page back to front - and went downstairs to meet and greet my family.

It had been almost three years since I had been able to purposefully touch Rosalie and today I could feel the full evidence of such elongated isolation. She was looking particularly stunning, her hair in soft waves, running the length of her back. She wore a red velvet jacket with black trousers and grey heels. Her eyes flickered to me and then quickly away; a momentary glance, it seemed to the outside world, but I knew better. She tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails on the marble sideboard of the comically unused kitchen. Carlisle and Emmett were with her, talking.

"Small town," she sniffed distastefully. "It's front page news if a cat goes missing. I'm surprised they're not organising some kind of parade in her honour."

Carlisle laughed gently, straightening his tie. "I spoke to Chief Swan about it last week. He's very excited. I don't think I've ever heard him talk like that about anything."

"Like I said," Rosalie went on. "Small town."

"Oh come on babe," Emmett said, playfully nudging her shoulder from where he sat perched on the kitchen sink. "You scared she's gonna be prettier than you?"

Rosalie and I both snorted with wry laughter at the exact same moment. Carlisle greeted me with a smile and Emmett with a cheery wave. Rosalie acknowledged me with a nod.

"Hey," I said. "What are you talking about?" As if I didn't know.

"Isabella Swan," Emmett said, as Rosalie settled her back into him, his knees hanging off the side of the counter - one on either side of her hips. I had heard him and Jasper during the night arm wrestling. From the yelling, I discerned that Jasper had won. "Talk of the town."

"_Small_ town," Rosalie corrected irritably.

"Oh come now, Rose," Carlisle rebuked gently. "People will still speak in hushed whispers of the Goddess Rosalie Cullen. Don't worry yourself."

She was trying not to smile now; we all knew that the very idea of Rosalie having to be jealous of _anyone_ was completely absurd. Carlisle's playful teasing was verification of such a fact.

"Hmmph," she said. "Well I'm already disposed not to like her."

"For which I'm sure she'll suffer a terrible loss," I quipped and Emmett kicked me in a friendly way as I passed - defending his wife's honour, I supposed, even though he was biting down a smile.

"Y'know," she said in an offhand manner, glancing down at a perfect, clear nail. "I think I need a new fan belt for my car. Maybe I'll _borrow_ yours."

Which meant she would rip into my car to get it. "Not if you like your car having wheels, you won't," I retaliated calmly. No-one blinked; we were always doing this, making threats and insults.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at me and then grimaced. "Dear God, Edward," she said. "It's called a brush!"

Emmett laughed out loud, which hastily became a cough. "Rose," he chided softly. "He's trying to…y'know."

"Trying to what?" she said, not taking her eyes off my hair. "Win Tramp of the Year?"

Emmett laughed again, not even able to pretend it was a cough this time. Of course, if I had said anything like that to her, it wouldn't have been funny at all.

"Well," I said, pulling on a jacket. "I thought I'd better not look _too_ nice, Rose. You know how jealous you get. I wouldn't want my being prettier than you coming between us now."

She smiled sardonically at me before leaning forward, taking Emmett by the hand and saying goodbye to Carlisle. Alice and Jasper were already outside in the misty gloom, leaning against my car. They were riding with me today, Rosalie and Emmett driving in Emmett's Jeep. All the better really; her scent was maddening and being stuck inside a car with it was enough to make me miss a fraction of a turn. And I _liked_ this car.

Alice was in rapid fire conversation with Jasper, who was nodding solemnly in return. I couldn't hear the words, but their thoughts were audible.

'_Must be wrong….have to be wrong, keep a lookout anyway though…can't have something like that happening. Feel so sorry for him…'_

I frowned slightly at Alice's thoughts. Why was she feeling sorry for me? But a few moments later I realised she wasn't feeling sorry for me at all.

'_So hard for him, even after forty years…being around so many humans…keep my eyes open…won't let him do anything…'_

She meant Jasper. Maybe she had seen something happening with him today. This was unusual. Jasper could control himself to a certain extent. Of course, the fact that he still fed from the occasional criminal human (not enough to affect his eyes) every now and then didn't help. But who was I to judge?

Without even looking in my direction, she sent a thought my way. _'Watch his thoughts today. Please?'_

Irritable, I nodded once. This day was starting out badly. Already I was fractious because of Rosalie, the idea that I would have to deal with more swooning girls and now some new girl was attending, creating a ripple effect through the already vulgar minds of the children at my school. I hated having to be around teenagers. Their thoughts were predominantly ruled by lust. It was nauseating to have to hear.

So with a considerable amount of gloom, we drove to school in our separate cars, not having the slightest idea that everything was about to change forever.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

The stalk of the apple came out without a fight and I twisted it in my fingers with dull fascination before I flicked it away, ignoring the 'PING!' as it hit the glass window of the school cafeteria. It was a shiny red apple, symbolic to a certain extent. I glowered at it before letting it drop otherwise untouched back on my tray. We sat at the same table as always; far away enough that no-one could scrutinise our consumption - not too far away that it would arouse suspicion.

Not, I noted dryly, that anyone was looking at us today. No, instead everyone's energy seemed to be focused on the new girl. How predictable these small town people were. In retrospect, no different to the time when I had been human and bore witness to the arrival of the mysterious Cullens. It was exactly the same; a novelty that would break up the usual monotony, little else.

Beside me, Emmett was talking to Alice and making her laugh. She was worried about Jasper, I could sense a strange tension in the air. Deeply ironic. Jasper seemed downcast, but there was nothing really to be discerned from that. He wasn't the most animated of people, after all. He sat opposite me, his eyes glazing over with the obvious effort of not breathing.

"C'mon!" my beautiful husband was pleading to Alice. "It'll be fun!"

He was trying to get weather information out of her, so we could coincide a hunting trip with heavy snowfall. One of Emmett's great loves - apart from me, obviously - was danger. Hunting in a snowstorm would be dangerous, if only slightly more than usual. Alice, however, was staying staunch on the subject.

"Can't help," she said playfully, though it was mainly for show. I knew she was more worried about Jasper. "Sorry."

"Yeah right," Emmett mumbled under his breath, vaguely defeated. I rested my arm on his and winked at him. He kissed me on the cheek and we continued to speak as if nothing was wrong.

And at the end of the table, was Edward.

He sat a little away from us, as usual, as if there was a necessity to separate us into groups of 'couples' and 'non-couples'. Well, he always had been masochistic. He stared at the ceiling with morbid fascination.

I had to look away again. Stupid me for thinking that after seventy years _this_ was something I could control. I never got used to it - never adjusted. It hit me as hard as it always had, whenever it chose to. The difference was that I had gotten better at hiding it; both internally and externally.

Externally, I was flawless. Literally. I never let slip an emotion that I hadn't pre-selected; I never said anything in anger or haste, even when it appeared that I did.

Internally, I had found a new trick for keeping him away and to prevent my accidental planning of something that might alert Alice. Whenever I felt the lull of such thoughts, I would find my reflection in something and stare at it, as if mesmerised. It amazed me that after such a vast amount of time had passed, people still thought I cared about the way I looked. Well, alright…I _did_ care. Obviously I cared, but not to the extent that I spent hours marvelling at my own beauty. I knew I was beautiful and it was pleasing, but little more than that now. In many ways, it was a painful reminder - something I had gotten used to, but it could be used as a powerful means of distraction.

_He_ didn't know that. So I found my reflection and I let all the hollow vanity pour through my mind. That would keep him out, hopefully. Making it harder for him certainly wasn't my objective and it looked as though today would be another difficult day for him.

We continued to chatter away, speaking in high, fast voices that no-one else could have detected above their own loud, slow speech. I maintained the 'vanity' train of thought, so easy to sustain after so many years of practise, while Emmett and I planned what to do on Friday night. He wanted to go hunting somewhere outside the Forks borders; he'd heard of a particularly nasty bear from some of the locals and was eager to hunt it down. I, on the other hand, wanted to go out of town to do some shopping in a new mall. I knew we would end up compromising and doing both, but with separate people. He was making the case that Friday night hunting was the equivalent of taking me to a fancy new restaurant. I was staying stubborn because he loved it when I was stubborn. Alice offered to take me shopping for the dress, citing that she too needed new clothes and that the shops around Forks were unbearable. This was true in so many ways. The lure of the out of town mall was that it was open twenty four hours. This meant 3am shopping, with minimal humans.

"Jasper will go hunting with you," Alice said, reaching across the table and brushing her little finger over his wrist. "Won't you?"

He shrugged elegantly. "Of course."

"Great," Emmett said with a big smile. "Rose would only whine about her hair getting messy anyway."

"That's only because you intentionally get it messy," I shot back.

"That's only because I love seeing you angry."

"You really do love danger, don't you sweetheart?"

"I always help you get clean again!"

I smacked his arm and he laughed; even Jasper cracked an unwilling smile, which faded almost instantly as a small, blonde girl walked past us. I noticed his hands curl up into fists; so obviously difficult for him. Edward kicked Jasper under the table sharply and Jasper apologised.

Alice then set about reassuring Jasper that he wouldn't have done anything anyway. I tended to doubt that, but remained silent. She went on to divulge personal information about the poor girl; giving the meal a personality, as it were. I thought maybe that Alice and Edward were speaking telepathically; sometimes they would do this, maintaining solidarity. Strange, that they had grown so close over the last few years. Edward said that it was so he could keep her close, check that she didn't accidentally see anything. I knew it was more than that. Like him, she was cursed to hear and see things she didn't want to. They stuck together like that. I was happy for him that he had someone in the family who could understand what it was like.

Alice left after hearing Jasper's tone of voice. I didn't understand how she could do that. I could never leave Emmett to wallow in guilt or despair. I would have to stay with him until everything was alright again. But Jasper and Alice were intrinsically different to Emmett and I. The dynamics of their relationship were fundamentally dissimilar. She danced away, lightly. Again, not something I would do. The way she moved - it was unnatural. She didn't seem to care what people thought of her, as she moved like a sprite or a pixie. I wouldn't move in such a way, but this was yet another endless comparison between two people who were so completely opposite in many ways. But it didn't alter how much I loved her. She was my sister; nothing changed that.

Edward's heard turned slightly. I hated that I was so aware of his every movement.

The atmosphere in the large area altered tangibly. Their excitement was almost palpable. I gave a fleeting glance once in the direction of the doors to see the new girl walking in. I looked away once I noted that she was completely mundane. Nothing extraordinary about her at all. Brown hair, slim, pale, normal features. Boring. I returned to the conversation with Emmett at once.

But something had changed. Something almost imperceptible and I would certainly have missed it if Edward wasn't the unstoppable centre of my attention.

He was looking in her general direction, though she was obscured by the children crowding to be around her. Probably sensing if she would be any danger. Everyone at this school was stupid enough that they presented no significant threat to us. This girl, however, might be different.

"What kind of dress is it?" Emmett was asking me, a teasing smile on his lips.

"It's not a dress," I corrected him, trying to give him my full attention. "It's shoes."

He pretended to look disappointed. Besides him, Edward leaned in close and whispered to him.

"Jessica Stanley is giving the new girl all the dirty laundry on the Cullen clan." His voice was soft, almost inaudible to me but I was trained in detecting it.

Emmett laughed but didn't reply vocally. Instead, I suspected, he was replying in his head. This was how most of us spoke to Edward, unless we were fully in group. I so rarely did it, because it was dangerous. He told me once that hearing my voice in his mind caused him loose control to an extent he wasn't comfortable with. I tried not to do that to him, but sometimes I got jealous of the others being able to do so.

"Rather unimaginative, actually," he said again, obviously answering Emmett's unheard response. "Just the barest hint of scandal. Not an ounce of horror. I'm a little disappointed."

I knew he wasn't really. He was irritated about something and talking to Emmett always calmed him down.

Emmett snorted with laughter and leaned over, unnecessarily, to tell me what Edward had said. I listened to him, more enjoying the proximity than the actually telling of it, but I was hyper aware of Edward staring at this girl now. Why? What was so interesting about her thoughts?

I didn't like it.

"Shall we?" I said, to break his focus on her. He looked away immediately as Emmett, Jasper and I rose from the table, trays of uneaten - but picked apart - food in hand. He nodded slowly, the same small crease between his eyes and together, we left the cafeteria.

I couldn't help but notice the girl watching him as we left. It made me uneasy, even though it shouldn't have. What did I have to fear from _her_?

Yet the thought followed me around all day, unbidden and enduring.

* * *

Something was wrong.

I could sense it before I even saw him. Something was seriously wrong.

We were all sitting in his car at the end of the day when he came to us, too fast. He knew not to move so fast, it didn't look human, but something on his face told me he really didn't care to much about that today. He was extremely out of breath; something primitive and raw in his eyes. I recognised it, of course, but something told me it was very much _not_ about me.

"Edward?" Alice asked, panic in her voice. He shook his head, dismissing her concerns.

Her concern was instantly shared by us all.

"What the hell happened to you?" Emmett asked, worriedly.

We were suddenly swerving backwards. None of us were thrown forward, we all had a perfect sense of balance and centre. But he had still to answer about what had happened. I immediately tried to imagine various scenarios.

Someone knew about us and we had to leave. Well, alright. Annoying (because we were so close to finishing High School again) but nothing major. Maybe the person who knew was blackmailing us. Again - nothing serious.

But I knew it was worse. Much worse. In fact, the only logical explanation was that he had killed someone. Unexpected, but logical. I couldn't scent blood anywhere but Edward was clever. He could hide it if he so desired.

We all looked to Alice, but she clearly didn't know any more than we did. Surely Alice would have foreseen him killing someone - it would mean we had to move, which meant significant change. That was the whole song and dance with Alice, wasn't it? _'Significant Change'. _

So no, maybe he hadn't killed someone. But he had wanted to. Badly. It had taken all his strength not to kill this person.

Yes, something inside me told me that was it.

A few more moments passed as we sped back to our home, so fast that even I didn't approve. Alice gasped suddenly.

"You're leaving?"

My heart contracted painfully, though I displayed nothing. Besides me, Jasper moved his elbow minutely into mine - a small warning.

"Am I?" he ground out.

Alice's eyes glazed over, unfocused on the world around her. She was looking into the future for Edward now. "Oh." Maddening free association language. I hated it when they would do this. Their own private little conversation comprising of telepathy and prophecy. "Oh."

It was obviously too much for Edward to see whatever picture she was painting mentally. "Stop!"

"Sorry," she replied, letting her eyes snap back into focus. "I'll miss you. No matter how short a time you're gone."

Emmett and I glanced at one another. He looked so worried, so afraid for his brother. I knew he didn't want him to leave.

Alice and Alice alone seemed to fully understand the situation, even more than Edward did apparently. "Drop us here. You should tell Carlisle yourself."

The car ground to a half and we all got out, Alice lingering momentarily to depart some last words of advice to him no doubt. When she closed the door, I caught him looking at me in the rear view mirror. He looked away again, in more pain than before and sped off.

"Alice," Emmett said the moment he was out of sight. "What the hell?"

"The new girl," she said, an unnerving quake in her voice. "It was the new girl."

Jasper nodded in agreement. "I'm amazed he resisted. His body was at war with itself over the hunger…the desire to have her."

Instinctively, I didn't like his choice of phrasing. Wanting to kill the girl for her blood - tear into her and slake his thirst…well that was fine. But that word…_desire_. I didn't like that at all.

"So he's leaving? Over some little moron?" I asked, unable to hide the irritation. Emmett gave me a mildly reproving look. "A little dramatic, even for him. Where was he going?"

Alice looked ahead. "Denali, I think."

"Denali?"

Emmett winced a little and shook his head to Alice.

"Oh for God's sake, Rose," she said and we began to walk through the woods. "There are more important things happening here than your childish grudge against Tanya!"

I remained silent. Only one person here could fully understand why I didn't want a wild, untamed Edward going to Denali to be with Tanya. To everyone else, I must have seemed selfish. So self-absorbed. But it was easier for them to think that of me, than to suspect anything.

Emmett took my hand and squeezed it tightly. "Don't worry honey," he whispered in my ear. "Everything will be alright. You'll see."

I smiled and nodded, wrapping my arm around his waist as we walked together. Despite his loving assurances, I couldn't help but doubt the veracity of such a promise. The doubt followed me all the way home, like a dark cloud and I could not shake it - not even when he called a few days later to apologise.

Something, somewhere along the line of that Monday, had altered the fabric of everything forever.

* * *

The night he returned, Alice told us it would be snowing the next day. Emmett and Jasper - much more cheerful since Edward's departure into weakness - were feverishly planning to cheer Edward up by attacking him with gigantic snowballs, some of which might contain rocks in the centre of them. Esme overheard the plan and almost immediately (after pretending to rebuke them) advised them to use Alice as cover. Keep him talking to Alice, then strike. I looked up from my new shoes - Ferregamo Madreperla's - and smiled at them. I was remaining out of the picture as much as possible so that when he returned, no-one thought of me. This was absolutely vital because when he returned, I intended to have a little word with him.

"Hey babe," Emmett asked, looking up from his scheming with Jasper. "You in?"

"In on what?" I asked, pretending to be wholly distracted by my beautiful new shoes.

"Making Edward into the next abominable snowman," Jasper chuckled. The fiendish glee was interrupted when Alice coughed discreetly behind them, leaning in the doorframe.

"I think we should all be looking out for Edward," she chided. "Making sure he's protected."

Emmett snorted derisively. "From what? Is this girl bionic or something?"

'_From himself,_' I thought grimly, though I kept on smiling.

Alice frowned. "Just make sure you keep him safe. It's going to be very difficult for him."

"Maybe he should just get it over and done with," Emmett suggested in an offhand manner. That had taken many years to perfect - and I had watched him do it. After several 'slip-ups' on his part, resulting in the deaths of around seven humans, Emmett had managed to create a way not to feel guilty.

"_Forever,"_ he had told me. "_Is a long time to mope._"

I only wished Edward could grasp the same sentiments.

* * *

**-Edward-**

The deluge of reassurances was to be expected. I knew that by leaving, I would prompt a massive swivel of attention in my direction. One by one, they thought their silent promises at me that everything would be fine and that they wouldn't let me do anything. Alice was especially pleased to see me, as was Emmett. Carlisle and Esme hugged me a little longer than the others, Carlisle telling me in his mind that he was proud of my restraint.

Rosalie stayed back, verbally welcoming me home once with a coldness that I knew was not fabricated for cover.

"Running off and leaving," Emmett was saying with affection. "Idiot."

"…should have trusted us," Alice was saying.

"…very difficult, I know how you feel," Jasper was saying.

"…missed you so much! How was Tanya?" Esme was asking.

"…never doubt yourself, you're stronger than you think," Carlisle was saying.

They were speaking all at once; I could clearly pick out what they were saying, as could we all. Rosalie maintained her significant silence. I knew that later on, however, such silence would not remain.

I was actually nervous about talking to her. I knew she was going to unleash some serious fury on me for leaving, especially for leaving over some girl.

Some Girl.

Still didn't seem right. The thing that had come into my life and swiftly turned everything on it's head. Bella Swan…her name didn't do her destructive power justice. Though I certainly didn't hate her anymore, she was an unfamiliar aspect in my life and something that had affected me so much that I had left my own family.

But back to the subject of Rosalie…I _was_ nervous. I had never been nervous about a confrontation with her, especially when I knew I deserved it. Why did I feel like I had done her some personal wrongdoing? Like I had somehow betrayed her in the last week or so?

It was deeply strange; I was almost curious about such a significant feeling, or I would have been if I could have detached myself from it.

So I waited for time to pass until we could be alone. Esme and Carlisle were going out that night, weather abiding. Someone's retirement party; I hadn't really been paying that much attention when they told me. I was trying to think of how I could get to Rosalie without creating suspicion. This was old habit by now, but we were still as careful as we were the day this all began. _Pride Goeth_ and all that it entailed. Jasper and Emmett were set for a rematch of their arm wrestle, which Emmett had been unable to forget as he had been defeated. I might be able to talk to her then, get her away for a few stolen minutes of time and let her say what she had to say to me. Or, more accurate I suspected, _do_ what she wanted to do to me.

But that was the wrong thing to think; even though I meant it as physical injury, my body still gave a pleasurable shudder in reaction my to faulty wording.

This was going to be hard.

'_Oh for God's sake Edward!'_ I thought crossly to myself, trying not to phrase anything else, for fear of creating more unknowing innuendo.

As it turned out, I had help in creating a sufficient distraction. Jasper had sensed my mood, somehow linking it to the desire to speak to Rose and so he went about teasing Emmett until he demanded a rematch, warning Jasper that he might not have an arm when they were done.

And I kept chanting it in my head, over and over. _It changes nothing…it changes nothing…it changes nothing. _

There was a deeper meaning to those words, than simply throwing Alice off the scent (even though all we were going to do was talk). I kept trying to think that nothing had changed, but there was a small part of me that kept shaking it's head at that. I tried to ignore it.

"And no helping him, Alice!" Emmett instructed. "No telling him which way to lean!"

Alice grinned. "I though he could only lean into your arm. How is the gift of foresight going to help him win an arm wrestling match? It's not chess!"

We all laughed at that, because Alice and I playing chess was an inside joke. Anyone who had seen us, would find it hysterically funny.

I was suddenly aware of her presence in the 'dining room'. Her scent filled my head; the slight taste of her skin was gently floating in the air, or maybe it wasn't and I was just loosing my mind. I had to turn to look at her, even though I shouldn't have.

There she was, all casual unintended beauty. This was when I loved Rosalie the most. When she was barefoot, in nothing more than a black vest top and shorts. This was something she and she alone would do. Occasionally I would see Emmett wandering around the house during night hours in his boxers, but there was quite obviously a reason for that. Rosalie was the only one who changed out of her clothes at night and she didn't do it very often. None of us felt the need to change clothes to be more comfortable. The same as beds and chairs were unnecessary. No-one commented on it, no-one asked why. I knew why, of course but I never told anyone. It was because all Rosalie's glamour and fashion was only a facet of who she was; sometimes she liked to be plainer, more homely - or at least, she liked to try. Everyone else assumed it was because she loved her clothes so much, she didn't want them to get over-worn. I knew otherwise.

I liked that I knew something about her that no-one else did.

"Hey," I said, unable to stop the small soft hitch in my throat. Luckily no-one noticed as I scanned their minds for any awareness of the infraction.

She'd heard it though. She smiled a small smile and her eyes lingered on me too long. I looked away sharply and she kept her face neutral. "Rematch, honey?" she asked Emmett.

He turned to look at her and his eyes widened fractionally. I pretended not to notice the secret smile that passed between them and then his thoughts of _later_.

"Yeah," he said excitedly. "_Finally_. Only kept me waiting a damned week!"

"Well, good luck Jasper," she said teasingly and wrinkled her nose at Emmett playfully before sauntering casually out of the room, as silently as she came. No-one questioned her departure. Rosalie sometimes liked to be alone; Emmett understood that better than anyone.

I decided to wait a long, lengthy, full minute before I left as well. They were engrossed in the rematch, Alice playing referee. This could take a while; Emmett excitement at winning would then be impossible to placate, he would want to wrestle more, in increasingly dangerous, potentially house-destroying ways. Or, he would loose again and keep trying until he won. No-one noticed me leave.

She was outside, in the garden as I knew she would be. Standing in the darkness, no moon tonight. Yet I could see her as clearly as if she had been standing beneath the midday sun. Her hair, long and soft and golden…God how I wanted to loose myself in the feel of it, tangle my fingers in it so I could bring her mouth to mine and never let it go again.

"Hi," I said, in place of the million other things I desperately wanted to say.

She didn't turn to look at me, though I could just make out the outline of her face, turned slightly to the right as she stood with her back to me. "Hello."

She _was_ angry; her _"hello" _spoke volumes. I steeled myself, trying to prepare for whatever she was going to say. I attempted to push down the part of me that so looked forward to a confrontation as such, because as least it was some basic form of contact.

"You're angry with me," I said; a preliminary, nothing more.

She shook her head in the darkness. "Come closer," she breathed.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine saying no. Refusing her, staying away when she had beckoned me. But even the thought of such disobedience was painful. I moved towards her and she finally turned around.

Her mind was oddly quiet; it was unnerving, the way she could do that - silence everything in her mind, except some muted echoing piece of music. Now there was no music, perfect silence. I was still moving closer to her when she turned.

It happened too fast, she had blindsided me before I could even see what she was planning or why she was planning something so wholly reckless. Both her hands pulled me to her by the waist and our mouths met in an almost painful clash. I was kissing her back without the slightest bit of say-so in the matter. That part of me took over, and the fact that our family were inside the house, so close by…meant nothing. It was like taking a breath after being underwater for too long; she was pure, raw, silken fire and her essence tore through me, obliterating the dull years of smiles and friendliness. I felt impossible _alive _once more and nothing else mattered - everything was so terribly, incontestably right. How had there been doubt? How had I ever questioned us? She was the totality of everything; the height of vivacity and ecstasy and still no Goddamned words to explain it!

I groaned into her mouth, pulling her body closer to mine and I felt her wrap her leg around the back of mine, so she could scissor our bodies even tighter together. I tasted her mouth, her tongue, her lips…everything. She was intoxicating, her hands running all over my body, searching me…possessing me.

That was how I felt. Possessed. She had possessed me. I couldn't breathe, think or speak I was so surrounded by her.

I was ready to fall backwards with her, to desperately seek out her skin with my lips and hands…as much of her as I could get, when she unexpectedly and abruptly shoved me away.

I stumbled slightly, dizzy and light-headed; confused from the loss of contact. It took me two seconds to realise that maybe she had pushed me away because someone was coming. I spun around and scanned the area.

No-one. Alice, Jasper and Emmett's mind were all focused on the third round. They didn't know anything, no-one was thinking about us. Why had she pushed me away.

We were both painfully out of breath, Rosalie put her hand to her mouth and shook her head.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be sorry," I said, shaking me head and moving to her again to continue what we had been reaching towards. If Alice hadn't seen us kissing, then she wouldn't see anything else. We could say we had been fighting… wrestling… hunting together…._anything_. I needed her so badly it was actually hurting me. She was a compulsion; it couldn't just start and then stop like that. I had to have more. I _needed_ more. I reached to pull her to me, but she stopped my hand.

"No," she warned me, her tone tight and her eyes dangerous. "No."

"What?"

"Don't be stupid," she said in a low voice. "You can't possibly think…"

"I don't care!" I said through gritted teeth.

"Well I do!"

"Then why did you kiss me?" If she was going to leave it like this, then it was unfairness beyond tolerance. How could she do something like that to me?

"I…" she said, still out of breath. "I needed to see if you…"

I read her steady, non-stuttering thoughts. "Oh Rose, how can you even think that?"

She turned her chin up to me defiantly even though I was only an inch taller than she was. "You left. I _had_ to see if you were still mine."

"Tanya? Hardly, Rose."

"Not Tanya!" she spat, as if insulted by the very thought. "That girl. Isabella."

Normally, I would have been able to prevent it. To stop myself from reacting. But I was shaken up; the world had turned upside down for a few small moments and I wasn't at the height of my ability to control my emotions. She read it, obviously and it did not reassure her.

"I see."

"No you don't, you don't see anything! Just because I didn't want to turn myself into a monster over some girl, doesn't mean I feel anything for her! Jesus Christ, Rosalie, listen to yourself!"

She was unsure; her jealousy was making her irrational and she was starting to see it, but at the same time she wasn't convinced. I would have to work harder.

"Please, Rose," I said in a softer voice. "You're being obtuse. What person on earth is there for you to be jealous of?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I know I'm more beautiful than she is or could ever be," she stated coldly. "Don't presume to know the foundations of my concerns!"

"Then what are your concerns?"

'_That you'll leave me for someone else! Someone who can be with you all the time! Someone warm and soft…someone who can give you everything I can't!'_ she shouted, internally voicing all the things she could never say out loud.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Damnit, Rose. You can't possibly believe that!"

'_I know I treat you terribly! Don't you think I know that? Sometimes I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you, I feel like I'm the worst person on the face of the planet for putting you through all this! And of course you'd want someone else! Who wouldn't? But you promised me, Edward. You promised and I can't let go of that because if you were with someone else…I couldn't bear it.'_

Her face screwed up like she was crying and I took her in my arms unthinkingly and held her there simply because I couldn't bear to see her like it.

"I promise," I whispered into her hair. "I promise, I promise, I promise."

How could I have known?

* * *

_A/N - So, this was a little shorter than previous chapters but that's because I wanted to get it up sooner. Writing this was tricky because of having to work so tightly within Meyer's parameters which - if anyone's read Midnight Sun - kinda kybosh my Rosalie/Edward plans. So, as I rambled on in the previous A/N, it's all the basic canon stuff (some will be rearranged slightly) just NOT his thoughts. Rereadin it today to double check everything, I realised that Meyer really does hate Rosalie. Huh. *cough-bitch-cough* Oh well, I guess she's entitled, seeing as how she created her and all. Very original though, to have the beautiful blonde portrayed as vain, shallow and predictable a "...shallow pool of few surprises..." Nice. Never mind. _

_I really hope everyone liked this chapter, it's weird adjusting to the rules of working within stuff that's alreadt been written, but I'm going to try and keep most of it in scenes tha weren't in Twilight and continue to manipulate the ones that were. _

_Anywho....reviews? I would just like to say - on an unlreated topic - that anyone who leaves a review has my undying love and devotion. Big, special thanks to MrsFreiden8 for her fantastic support and kindness. You're a star. Also to everyone else who's reviewed so far, for all your lovely comments. I love you all!_

_More up soon. Bella vs. Rosalie is soon to be written....muhahahaha!_

x x x x x


	23. Chapter 23: Cocytus

**-Chapter Twenty Three: Cocytus-**

*

**-Edward-**

_For with the vilest spirit of Romagna, I found of you one such, who for his deeds in soul already in Cocytus bathes, and still above in body seems alive!_

The intense boredom of the build-up for a particularly slow biolology class was, notably not the reason I was rereading _'The Inferno' _while waiting for the other noisy, gossipy children to settle down and resign themselves to education. No. I was rereading Emmett's rather worn copy of one of his favourite books because I was nervous and it passed time while I waited for her to arrive.

She was being slow, even for a human. They all moved at an excruciatingly protracted pace, like cattle in more ways than one. But this girl…I had never been so hopelessly impatient for a human to learn how to put one foot in front of the other in a timely fashion. I allowed my eyes to run over the familiar lines, only mildly taking in what I already knew Alighieri was telling me. The nine layers of hell, in exquisite, archaic prose.

I had come here today under the rule of determination. This girl would not see me run away from family, however hideously alluring her blood might have been. So I would talk to her, see if I couldn't find a way into her mind. The poor girl didn't deserve to die for something she was unaware of and I owed it to myself to exert some control.

But she was taking so damned long!

I flicked a page, read it in six seconds and then moved onto the next. Maintaining the human façade was not a priority today, with regards to the other children around me.

Once again, I uselessly tried to search for signs of her approaching mind. Maybe the time away had fixed whatever was wrong with my gift; maybe now I could hear her thoughts, though I would have to wait until she actually deigned to arrive to fully test the validity of that theory.

Nothing.

The room was nearly full now. Maybe she wasn't coming. Had she left? If so, why? What issues in her life had caused her to leave so soon after so little time here? The mystery of it all was infuriating to me.

But I caught the taste of something that stirred a dark, hungry creature within me. She was coming, I could faintly sense her smell. The same smell that had almost cost me my sanity the last time I sat in this seat, in this classroom.

Alice had told me that there was no danger. They had all escorted me here - though I failed to see why forming a protective circle around _me _was entirely necessary - and assured me that they wouldn't let anything happen. I had seen something in Rosalie eyes when we parted ways this morning, just as I had seen Jasper take her aside when Alice went to her classes without him. I knew what he said and I knew what the problem was. Of _that_ situation I was only too aware.

This, on the other hand, had me completely in the dark.

Hadn't I once thought that I would fall in love with the first person I met who's mind was a mystery to me? What stupidity had possessed me to think such a thought? Though I moaned and complained about having to listen to the depraved innermost thoughts of teenagers all day long, I realised that it was something I had become accustomed to. Knowledge was part of my arrogance, really. Without knowing everything about a person, that person had a strange, unexpected power over me. I had let myself grow conceited with such intimate information, secure in the knowledge that I would never have to work to get to know someone ever again.

And of this girl, I knew nothing…apart from that fact that a very large portion of myself wanted to rip her throat out.

She came through the door, her eyes flickering straight to me. I looked back at her, immediately trying and failing to select a thought from her direction. There was nothing; her mind was blank, empty, a void. Angry with myself, I looked down and closed the book, putting it safely away.

With hesitation (was that why she had moved so slow?) she made her way to our table, taking her bag off her shoulder.

I appraised her quickly, trying to get a clinical opinion of her. I still hadn't allowed myself to take in a breath, so I could manage some small amount of rationality.

She was…strange. Strange in a deeply subtle way. Firstly, she was plain. Plain in the way that I automatically compared her to Rosalie, because what was Rosalie if not incomparable? In this way, she _was_ plain. Her features, face, mouth and nose were all very ordinary, especially for a human. Her hair was dark brown and thick, shorter than Rose's. She was pale, but her pallor had a strange translucency about it. Slim, much shorter than Rosalie and less curves. No, about her appearance I could perceive nothing extraordinary. Indeed, it was her silence and her scent that drove me mad. Certainly not her face.

By human standards, I reconsidered, she was very attractive, however. I tried not to compare her to Rose; the effects were instantaneous. If I had been human, and had never met Rosalie Hale (God, so many _'ifs' _in that) then I would have said she was very pretty. She was delicate, fragile and yes…there _was _something about her, as Mike Newton had repeated thought to himself on many occasions.

My appraisal had taken only a full second and she was still putting her bag on the floor. She met my eyes briefly and then looked away again, as if frightened. I somehow sensed that she was going to look back again so I resolved myself to be friendly. I smiled in a very non-threatening way, not fully opening my mouth and when she looked back at me she blinked once, slightly dazed.

"Hello," I said. She didn't actually reply. I waited a few seconds, and when nothing else happened I pushed on. "My name is Edward Cullen. I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

I could control myself. This was good. Friendly, calm, normal. I knew I would have to take a breath in a moment, but maybe if I turned my head it would be OK.

She looked somewhat stunned. I cringed internally, feeling bad for the way I had treated her last time. It had obviously made an impression. Still her mind was infuriatingly silent. I resigned myself to the fact that this silence was obviously going to be an ongoing phenomenon.

"H-how do you know my name?" she stammered. Not exactly the response I had imagined. Why was my knowing her name such an important factor? Surely she must know the extent of her popularity?

I laughed, because I knew it would distract her - all humans were distracted by our laughter. "Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive," I said softly, thinking with amusement of Rosalie and her continued repetition of _"Small Town."_ But I tried not to think of Rosalie while talking to this girl, because it was clouding my judgement.

Bella winced, obviously not liking that at all. I had surmised as much from my limited observation of her. She didn't like being the centre of attention. It was obvious in the way she moved, her voice and the curve of her shoulders. Little indications that I shouldn't have to rely on.

"No," she went on, trying to remove the frown from her eyes. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"

I immediately tried to think of reasons why she was asking me this. I replied before I had fully figured it out, not wanting to appear calculating.

"Do you prefer Isabella?"

"No, I like Bella," she told me. "But I think Charlie - I mean my dad - must call me Isabella behind my back - that's what everyone here seems to know me as."

I realised all too late that I shouldn't have presupposed familiarity with her name. She had corrected everyone about it on her first day, I remembered it in their minds, but she hadn't corrected me. We hadn't spoken, so why would I know to call her Bella? I felt stupid - not something I was prone to.

"Oh," was all I could say without making it worse.

Mr Banner began to speak then, and she looked to the front gratefully. Though I seemed to be paying attention to him, I was really watching her out of the corner of my eye. I was aware of every breath she took, every time she blinked. When her elbow shifted, and she turned her face away from me slightly, I saw it. The heat her body radiated was substantially pleasant; and the taste of her scent was still on my tongue.

Because I had hunted - vastly - before returning here, I was a little more prepared for it this time, but not in any significant way. I had to exert all my will power not to give in and indulge in what part of me so desperately screamed for. The allurement she gave off was dizzying, but I could control it - I thought of Carlisle and I knew I could control it.

When we had been given the instruction - something I could have done blindfolded - I swivelled a little to face her, not managing to smile fully, and offered for her to go first.

But again, she didn't reply. It pained me not to know the reason behind her silence - was she still terrified of me? Probably. So I let my unfinished smile drop, and instead surmised that maybe I ought to go first.

She blushed. I felt a rush of bittersweet longing flood through me; the desire to taste the source of that blush was tremendous. It made her glow, almost…and suddenly, she didn't seem so plain.

"No. I'll go ahead."

She went about the task at hand, suddenly very focused on the microscope. After a few brief seconds, she confidently announced that it was prophase.

When I asked if I could double check, my fingers accidentally brushed with hers. Again, the heat from her soft, yielding skin was astounding. My stomach reacted immediately; the monster inside was viciously hating me for getting this close and not allowing it to indulge.

She flinched at the contact; my hand must have felt like ice to her. "I'm sorry," I said, not knowing why I should apologise.

She was right, of course. "Prophase," I agreed, writing it down. She was watching me now, the sensation was strange.

We took it in turns to check; she was above average intelligence, that much was clear but everything else about her was an agonising mystery. I watched her every moment, scrutinising for any indications I could get. To my surprise, she was staring at me, more than I was staring at her. Normally, people looked down to avoid us when they had been intimidated by us. This girl was different.

After an intensely long period of staring, she took a breath - which whispered down her throat in such a way I almost misspelled something - and then spoke.

"Did you get contacts?"

Another strange question, which wouldn't have been strange at all if I could have read her damned mind. "No."

But all too late I could see where her observance was leading to. "Oh," she mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

I shrugged casually, as if I didn't really have the time or the inclination to answer such an unknowingly dangerous question. The anger I was feeling, directed at myself, was doing nothing for my self control. Her scent was all around me now, and I had to take a breath. It filled me up, sending electricity jolting through my body, the need to taste and drink her blood was painful and all the humanity I had managed to paint her with, vanished. My hands clenched tightly and I tried to think of other things.

I thought of Rosalie, and what she must be thinking of me. I remembered last night, and how the feel of her mouth on mine had exploded all thoughts of this girl from within me. I thought of her jealousy, of her insecurity. I felt a little more in control. In fact, the more I thought of her…the easier it was.

The teacher was coming over and by the time he was there, I had relaxed my hands. He glanced down at the completed sheet, done way before the others in this class, and automatically assumed I had dominated the academia. I corrected his misuse of her name, and pointed out that she had identified three of the five. She was looking at me again; I fought harder to maintain my calm.

Mr Banner was talking to her now; about what I couldn't make out, there was a loud noise in my ears. Probably my brain cells popping with the effort of controlling myself. This wasn't good - I needed to get this sorted out. Now. If I could understand her, then there was no mystery. If there was no mystery, it would dull the shine of the lure.

I picked a generic segway into conversation, the weather. "It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?"

But no - wrong thing to say. "Not really."

"You don't like the cold," I ascertained quickly.

"Or the wet."

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," I said, managing to hide to ironic resentment.

"You have no idea," she said with a certain amount of gloom.

'_Oh yes,'_ I thought sarcastically. _'Very difficult for _you_.'_

Even though I was resentful of her words, they were still fascinating to me. The lack of origin of what she was saying mesmerised me. I had to keep asking more questions.

So I did. I asked questions about almost everything she said. I asked why she had come to be here, about her mother's remarrying. I couldn't stop myself. There had to be answers - simple, basic answers and then I could be done with her.

But every answer she gave me, fascinated me more in turn. I was being helplessly drawn into her life, suddenly caring about her tone of voice when she spoke about her mom. I cared that she was unhappy. There was a fragility surrounding her; not just physically either. A distinct, cold part of me was disgusted that I cared so much about a _human_. Emmett would call it _bonding with your food_.

Our conversation came to an end and very quickly, I could feel the hunger building up again. It hit me hard when I realised I had no more speech to distract myself with. Getting to know her hadn't lessened my desire for her blood in the slightest. I gripped the table and leaned away, though it was useless.

The class ended _finally_ and like last time, I was gone a millisecond before the bell rang to announce freedom. I fled the area, and her scent, as if it were poison. I left her there, undoubtedly shocked by my sudden movement.

I weaved through the body of students; the ocean of humans, with only one thought on my mind. And it was a dangerous, reckless thought.

Rosalie.

I had to find Rosalie.

I knew exactly where she was, and who she was with but I didn't care. I needed to see her, I needed her. I didn't understand why - there was no logical explanation for any of it, but that didn't alter the necessity of it.

For the first time in my life, I was disappointed to see Alice coming towards me. She smiled and waved at me and I did the same, though I was bitterly upset that she had found me first.

"See?" she said soothingly, as she fell into step with me. "I told you nothing was…"

"Where's Emmett?" I cut across her, trying not to let urgency infect my voice.

She blinked once, confused. "Why?" I looked at her and her eyes widened a little in surprise. "That difficult?"

"Yes," I ground out, as three small teenagers dived out of my way. I must have looked the very personification of furious. "I need to talk to him. Where is he?"

"You tell me," she said, her high, musical voice undetectable by human ears. "You're the mind reader."

I scanned the area, searching for familiar voices. Emmett and Rosalie were together, walking towards my car, pretending they were returning to collect something they'd forgotten, but with very different intentions. I could see Rosalie laughing in his mind's eye. They were holding hands.

I managed not to scowl.

"What's wrong?" Alice was asking me in a low, concerned voice. "Please tell me."

"I'm just frustrated is all," I ground out. "You know talking to Emmett calms me down."

She opened the large, fireproof double doors with a light flick of her index finger. "Maybe you need some perspective on this, Edward," she said, flatly. "I think you're getting too caught up in the drama of it all."

Maybe there was a God after all, because I could see where this was going.

"Oh?" I asked, opening my locker with three flicks of my wrist.

"Maybe you should speak to Rosalie."

I pretended to look offended. "Rosalie? Why? So she can gloat over my lack of self control?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "You two are like infants sometimes. No, I mean because she'll bring you back down to earth. You're letting this carry you away. If anyone can burst your bubble, it's Rose. And for once, I think it might actually be a good thing. She's the only person who won't talk down to you…who'll tell it to you like it is."

I slammed my locker shut, ignoring the dent I had left on the frame. "And you actually think that would help?"

"You're going to talk to her," she said with unequivocal certainty. "So I suggest you get to your car before you interrupt anything unforgivable."

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

It was nothing new, that for sure and certain. Such feelings between us were perfectly normal. We were a perpetually young married couple, with all the desire and lust that immorality encompassed. So when he had started passing notes to me, I didn't hesitate to reply.

_Hey babe, did you know I just sat here and watched a button slip undone on your blouse?_

To which I replied…

_Emmett McCarty, you should be paying attention to the class. I'm offended that you would be staring at my chest when something so important is being taught to us._

To which he grinned and scribbled…

_Not my fault if the person sitting next me is so sexy I can't concentrate. _

At which even I had to smile as I wrote…

_Too bad for you we've got another hour. _

We were used to this, passing notes so fast that no-one could see us. We could both write faster than most of these children could speak.

I watched him bite his bottom lip as he scrawled…

_Maybe I could pull the fire alarm._

So I wrote back…._Someone will see you. _

_I wasn't finished. I'll pull the fire alarm, while you distract the class by taking off your shirt. _

I nudged his knee against mine, intentionally a playful reprimand but he reciprocated too forcefully and the table moved.

The teacher at the front cleared her throat, giving Emmett and I a warning glance, before rambling on about a subject I knew back to front.

_Now see what you did,_ I wrote.

He replied beneath my cursive handwriting, _She's just jealous. _

_Of?_

_The fact that she'll never feel what you and I feel for one another. _

I bit my pen teasingly, smiling slightly. He groaned inaudibly, but I felt it reverberate through his broad shoulders, where mine just met his.

I decided to play fair, so I wrote one final note on the page covered with our silent discussions; not a note about the academic tedium to be seen.

_When the bell rings, you'd better take me to the car then and show me exactly what it is that she's jealous of. _

He didn't reply to that, his eyes said it all.

So we sat through the rest of the hour, both trying to hide identical smiles. When the bell finally rang, we were the first to our feet, everything else already packed away. We left the class before the halls even had a chance to fill up and then we slowed down slightly, hand in hand heading towards the car. I tried not think about the fact that it was Edward's car.

Once inside, he was all over me and I was exactly the same. We kissed and giggled against each other's mouths, driven by a wild, playful lust. I warned him not to rip anything and he argued, against my mouth, that it was normally me who tore his clothes. Breathless with excitement and desire, he trailed rough kissed down my neck, smiling all the while. I was just about ready to take off the blouse, when he froze against my collarbone and muttered "Damn!"

In another moment I knew why.

Edward was coming.

I felt a nasty wedge of cold driven into my spine, but Emmett just burst out laughing and tried to rearrange himself in time before Edward got to the car. The windows weren't steamed up, because our exhalations were cold, but we were dishevelled and it occurred to me how very unfair doing something like this to him was.

Emmett kissed me once more before getting out of the car and trying to keep a straight face. "Hey," he said, breathlessly nonchalant. "What's up?"

I got out of the car as well, not even trying to hide it. He looked at me once, nothing cold or anything angry visible anywhere, which said a lot. Then he looked at Emmett with mild exasperation.

"You could have asked. How did you even unlock it?"

Emmett glanced guiltily at the door handle, which hung at an odd angle.

"I'll fix it," I promised. "Tonight."

Edward nodded, not seeming to care. "Um," he said, looking down. "Alice said I should talk to you."

Emmett looked from me to Rose, then back again. "_Her?_"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You know Alice," he said, still not looking at me. "Crazy ideas. She thinks I need a good talking to, I guess. Anyway - she didn't leave me much of a choice. It got pretty close in the classroom again. So…" He trailed off, obviously unable to fully articulate what needed to be said. Luckily, Emmett gleaned that he was too 'embarrassed' to say the rest.

"Well sure," he said. "Anyway, Rose has been waiting for a chance to let you have it." I forced myself not to react to his unintended double entendre. "I'll see you in class," he whispered to me, kissing the corner of my mouth, winking at me. "No mercy."

He was smiling and once again I felt the familiar stab of guilt. So trusting, so positive that nothing would ever happen between his wife and his brother. God I felt sick with it. I didn't want to stay with Edward, I wanted to go with Emmett…but I could see something was seriously wrong and that he needed my help - whatever that entailed.

"Love you," I said, grasping his fingers in mine briefly before he left, giving Edward a hard, but affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"Try not to kill each other, Esme will ground whoever survives," was his parting line and then he was gone, back inside the school to find Alice and Jasper, and we were left alone by the car.

For a while - a full, agonising minute - he said nothing. I waited for him to speak, to tell me whatever it was he had to tell me. Finally he took a breath, but still wouldn't look at me.

"You've come undone," he whispered.

I actually thought that was his opening line into some sort of deep, psychological intervention. I wanted to point out that I was not the one who was unravelling at the seams over some stupid, unattractive human girl.

"No," he said. "Your shirt."

I didn't even bother looking down to see the shoddy job Emmett had done at buttoning me back up again. I knew the shirt was open to my belly button, I could feel the wind whipping over my skin. I didn't care.

"The buttons have been slipping out all day," I said, not taking my eyes off him. "Prada my ass. Since when do you care?"

Still he refused to look at me; it was as if he were ashamed. The question became more insistent. I wanted to grab his hand, make him touch me and demand to know since when he had cared about something like that when we were alone? A part of my body open to the wind, an area he had tasted with his own mouth more times than I could count - why was this suddenly an uncomfortable subject?

And the cold, nasty part of me found a voice. "Is it her?" I could hear the bitter jealousy in it, without even wanting to. He closed his eyes; confirmation of my dark, uninvited suspicions. "What happened? Did you kill her?" A little too hopeful, perhaps. His eyes snapped open.

"What?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Edward!" I hissed. "Get a grip! She's doing this to you because of her blood! Her _blood!_ Nothing more, nothing less! She a bar of Goddamned chocolate and you've been on a diet for seventy years! You don't have to give it so much dramatic angst! You're either going to kill her or you're going to get over it! There. Exactly what Alice wanted me to tell you. Now you can move on. Happy?"

I was being irrational, pushing him somewhere that I'd be advised not to. I could see it in his eyes, in the tightness of his jaw. He didn't like me talking about her death…he didn't like it at all.

"I won't kill her," he growled.

"Then _move on_!" I snarled back. "Get a hold of yourself and realise that you're losing your mind over some stupid, worthless little human! She's not even pretty for God's sake!"

BANG! He shoved me into the car behind him, setting off the car alarm and cracking one of the windows. He held me by the upper arms, his face so close to mine that I could feel his ragged breaths playing across my face. His eyes were burning with anger and something else, less definable.

"Don't," he breathed. "Talk about her like that."

I laughed dryly once. "Or _what_?"

His jaw worked while I could see him holding back the numerous nasty things he wanted to say to me. "How do you do that?" he eventually asked.

"It worked, didn't it?" I snapped, knowing that I should shove him away now. We weren't exactly hidden out here. "You don't hate yourself anymore. You hate me."

Still frowning at me, he shook his head. "Sometimes I think I'll never understand you."

"I hope you don't," I whispered. "Otherwise you'll tire of me and be forced to find your mystery elsewhere."

He looked angry enough to hit me for saying something so low; for stooping to such base treachery and malice. A part of me expected him to, so far removed from his old self as he was.

"Tire of you?" he echoed in a trembling voice. "You think I could ever tire of you, Rosalie? Your doubt is insulting. Do you seriously think that I could ever stop…_this_?"

I searched his face, trying to find the answers I desperately wanted. I knew I was being unreasonable; illogical to the point of insanity, but so was he. It had only been a week and nothing had changed, but we were so attuned to one another that we were hyper aware of even the slightest leaning towards change.

Just as I was hyper aware of his body leaning into mine, holding me pressed into the car with an urgency that ran beyond anger.

It had started to rain again, but I barely noticed. His anger was transforming into something else now, and I swear if my heart had been able to beat it would have broken through my chest.

It was deeply bittersweet, perpetually beyond any form of articulation. Music came the closest to being able to describe it and even the great composers fell a little short. Now was one of those trembling, violent moments when I realised that I was so stupid for thinking he would ever fall out of love with me. Not when he was looking at me like that, not when we were moments away from kissing…not when we could feel _this_.

He was still holding onto me, keeping me pressed into the car with the force of his body and I was loving every moment of it. There was a raw ferocity in his eyes; I pretended that it was wholly about me, nothing to do with that girl. The rain came lashing down, heavy thick droplets by the thousands all around me. I didn't care about my hair or my clothes or that at any moment, someone could run to their car and see us in this suspicious embrace…about to do something extremely reckless.

We were leaning into one another again; just as I sometimes reflected. Collapsing structures, falling into one another for stability…and if they don't meet in the middle, they will fall. I watched the lump in his throat move, as his lips parted slightly. His eyes were half closed, heavy lidded with the same dizzying, heady desire that was coursing though me. His grip on my arms relaxed and his hands flattened, moving up over the material of my shirt; his fingers fanning out as they headed towards my shoulders, then up my neck where they slid into my hair, his thumbs hooking behind my ears.

We were both soaking wet by now, raindrops running down my face - mingling with his eyelashes. I lifted my hands to his face and traced over the wet trails, running down his cheekbones with my fingertips. I could feel the welcoming irresponsibility of insanity approaching. What did anything else matter when he was looking at me like that?

My middle finger traced his lips and he groaned, opening his mouth and gently biting it. The sensation was enough to drive all thought and rationality from me completely. Our mouths smashed together, pulling at each other with painful desperation. Kissing for kissing's sake was a rarity with Edward and I, but we weren't stupid enough to think that anything else could take place here.

So we kissed. I kissed him as if my life, my soul depended upon it and he kissed me as if I was his one remaining link to sanity. I moaned into his mouth and he pulled me closer, hands running down my back, grabbing at my hips for more contact. I heard the car groan behind me, the metal straining to maintain it's framework. And I should have been disturbed by how much I didn't care, but I wasn't.

He swore against my lips, words he would never say around Carlisle or Esme. Like some travesty of a prayer, reciting senseless words over and over again and I tried to let it stay that way, because I didn't want him to make sense…I didn't want to hear him say something that wasn't about me.

A sound was penetrating the fog of my mind; it was the bell, announcing the start of afternoon lessons. We were still kissing…God, how long had we been kissing? I tried to stop myself, but it was almost impossible. Finally, I found the strength to put both hands flat on his chest and push him away from me, hard.

He was so out of breath, and I was too. The world seemed to swirl slightly, everything was out of focus. I couldn't hear the rain, I could only feel it. Each individual drop as it hit me and then trickled down my skin.

No logic, no reason, no rhyme, no rationale, no sanity. Only him, only me - the wonderfully destructive ritual that would create an '_us'_. It was all I wanted…all I needed, and yet it would destroy so much. I tried to stop thinking about it, I really did.

"Rosalie," he was shaking his head. "God, Rosalie…"

"Don't," I said, doing up the buttons on my blouse with trembling hands. "Go. You need to go. Now."

He turned away to do so, but before he had put his foot into that first step he turned back and returned to me, taking me in his arms and kissing me once more.

"Never doubt it," he promised against my lips. I wished to God he would stop promising me things. "Never think that I could live a moment in this world without you."

I pushed him away before he could feel my heart breaking and I refused to let myself watch him walk away, through the rain.

* * *

**-Edward-**

"_Commingled are they with that caitiff choir, of Angels, who have not rebellious been, nor faithful were to God, but were for self. The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair; nor them the nethermore abyss receives, for glory none the damned would have from them."_

"Never really understood the fascination, myself," I said to Emmett, giving him back his book as requested - the quotation he had recited off by heart sufficing as a simple reminder. "Too busy with his prose to actually say anything."

He chuckled and took back his book, placing it on his shelf in _their_ room. Although downstairs, there was a massively vast bookcase with roughly fifteen hundred books on it, he and Rosalie had their own collection in their room. He had only contributed twenty or so books; nothing compared to the vastness that Rosalie owned. But I preferred his significantly small choices; he knew what he liked, and it took a lot to impress him into reading, let alone owning a book.

"Edward Cullen, with all his theological pondering and philosophy, doesn't like Dante Alighieri?" Emmett was teasing me now, as I leant against the Egyptian sand coloured walls. Their room was stunningly decorated. Rosalie's taste was slightly too much to be allowed to spill into the rest of the house, but she dominated her…_their…_bedroom with her extravagant and, in my opinion, very passionate taste.

The walls were a warm sand colour, the ceiling a pleasant shade of cream with a weak coffee coloured border. In this sense, the walls were very bland but then there were the curtains. Not curtains at windows, of course. Oh no. That would have been expected. Not Rosalie. She had hung voile curtains all around the walls, creating the illusion that the walls were gateways or windows themselves. The beautiful material of the curtains were coloured scarlet and burgundy. The chez lounge and chairs were all black and cream embroidered velvet. The carpet (thick and soundproof) was black as well. A few esoterically dramatic pieces of furniture placed here and there and, obviously, a very large vanity table situated in the far corner of the room. Rosalie and Alice were working on transforming the adjacent room - currently used for storage - into a walk-in closet. I knew as well as Emmett did that Rosalie had too many clothes for any normal wardrobe known to man. The double door windows opened fully, with a tiny little terrace outside. No curtains there; what was the point? To keep out the sun in the morning while they were trying to sleep? To the right of the terrace doors, a very expensive and high quality CD player; beneath which a mountain of CD's were stored in rows, by alphabetical order. I didn't have to look inside to see what they had last been listening to. I knew it was _Vangelis_; Rosalie and Emmett both had the same song stuck in their head for days. I also knew what they were _doing_ while listening to that song, even though the walls were soundproofed.

"It's all make believe," I said, glancing around the room casually. "Like a fairy tale or something. A particularly bleak fairy tale, admittedly - but fiction nonetheless."

"You'd look so stupid if he came back from the dead and proved you wrong," he said, raking through his, very small, wardrobe, looking for a change of clothes. We were taking Jasper hunting tonight, only very quickly. More of a distraction than an actual feeding. I knew it was all for my benefit. In fact, it was my idea. I wanted…no _needed_…to spend some time with my brothers, particularly Emmett. My head was swimming with guilt; the betrayal I was involved in, pulsing through me like a venomous tide. It made a warped kind of sense to stay close to him; I knew it wouldn't make sense to anyone else, least of all Jasper.

Boys night out, in a strange sort of way.

Plus it would hopefully take my mind off of that girl, Bella.

Just the thought of her name and my spine tightened. I felt a small crease of concern where there had been none before. I tried to dismiss it. I didn't want to be worrying about a human girl right now. I was in enough trouble, causing enough pain, worrying enough without adopting the concerns of a delicate, yet stubbornly fascinating little human.

"You _want_ it to be true?" I asked, laughing with disbelief.

"Hardly," Emmett said, throwing the other shirt in a pile on the chez lounge. "Doesn't make it any less interesting, or any less beautiful."

"_Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed. With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins, trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel. At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching a sinner, in the manner of a brake, so that he three of them tormented thus. To him in front the biting was as naught unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine utterly stripped of all the skin remained,"_ I recited somewhat coldly. "Beautiful, really?"

Emmett pulled on a casual sweatshirt, far more suited for the way he hunted and looked at me with curious confusion. "'_That soul up there which has the greatest pain,' the Master said, 'is Judas Iscariot; with head inside, he plies his legs without.' _You forgot who he's talking about. Hardly uncalled for."

I loved my brother, as much as Carlisle maybe, if in admittedly different ways. Yet sometimes, without meaning to, he hurt me. It wasn't his fault, of course. How could he know that his insinuation could cut me so deep? If I wasn't betraying him then I'd be agreeing, wouldn't I? Of course traitors should rot in hell in the mouth of the devil - if I wasn't one, I'd believe the same as he did.

I wanted to push it further, to ask if he believed the same about murderers, who were only a few levels behind Cocytus after all. But I didn't, because I had killed far more than he had. More than anyone apart from Jasper. It amazed me that he enjoyed something so grim and bleak, when we had all - with the exception of Carlisle - taken human life in one way or another.

He shrugged, maybe sensing my discomfort, and nudged me on the shoulder. "Hey man," he said quietly. "I didn't…y'know. Doesn't mean anything. I just like the book; not staking my belief system on it or anything."

I smiled and rolled my eyes. "Don't worry," I said. "I know you only pray to the Goddess Rosalie."

An alter we both shared.

After some more friendly banter, Jasper joined us and we set out for a mini-hunt before school the next day. During the night, it snowed heavily. The road would be dangerous tomorrow. I fleetingly worried about Bella, not fully knowing why it was my business. I hoped Rosalie had fixed my car by then. I didn't particularly want her to have to drive us in her flashy red BMW.

I put Bella Swan out of my mind, sternly telling myself that she deserved a life uncomplicated by me and all my intensely theatrical baggage, and tried to concentrate on dodging gigantic snowballs, sent hurling my way by Emmett, who's only thoughts that night were of making _me_ feel better.

Oh yes, there would be a place for me in hell and I had no doubt just where exactly it would be.

* * *

_A/N - So, I'm really not happy with this chapter. I don't know why. I think I just preferred it when I could work within my own set of rules, not having to adhere to Meyers. But I'm over that now and this chapter was more of an interesting filler than anything else. I don't want to rush the next scene - very important - so this was really just buildup to that. Also, I switched the order in which Bella and Edward arrive to biology. I didn't realise she got there first until I was already really into it, by which point I decided that it hopefully didn't matter. Hope it didn't shatter anyone's canon-illusions. _

_The continued references are from Dante Aligheiri's 'Divine Comedy: The Inferno' A book I equally love and hate which has significant relevence to this chapter, IMO. Cocytus - for anyone who isn't obsessed as I am - is the ninth and worst level of hell, reserved for the worst people in history; traitors. _

_Shout outs: Robyn, thanks so much for your delightful interest in the story...your obsession fuels MY obsession. The eternally incredible, lovely Amber who just makes my day wonderful...thank you darling. _ _Narutoclaymorelove4eva, Femme Teriyaki, CrazyCookyTash12 for leaving such long, fantastic reviews that make me smile and then send me back to the story with renewed enthusiasm. Everyone else, thank you so much for your support. Means the world, really. _

_I know I promised Bella vs. Rosalie in this chapter, but I'm saving it up for something good. Muhahahah. Anywhoo...enjoy!_

_x x x x ~Bex~ x x x x x_


	24. Chapter 24: Bleed

**-Chapter Twenty Four: Bleed-**

*****

'_With one hand on the hexagram_

_And one hand on the girl_

_I balance on a wishing well_

_That all men call the world.'_

_-Leonard Cohen_

*****

**-Edward-**

Memories were traced finely into every part of my body; tiny echoes of significant moments forever etched into my skin, invisible to the rest of the world, but completely evident to me. I looked down at my hands, and I could see her lips trailing kisses along them, individually, with unequal amounts of attention. My wrists told tales of the time she had held them above my head while kissing me, trapping and holding me in place while she straddled me. My shoulders still seemed to ache with the force she used to grab me … my back remembered how her nails had felt, clawing into my skin as she lost all self control. My lips knew how hers tasted. My belly button knew what her kisses felt like. My fingertips knew every inch of her body; the inside of her mouth, the soft skin behind her neck, the heat of her lips and the curves and indentations of her palms. I was a canvas smothered in secrets; imperceptible evidence of our long standing obsession and intimacy with one another.

Yet, as I looked down at my hands, currently holding the steering wheel in place while I drove, I realised that these exquisite scars were starting to fade. When was the last time I had been able to touch her, _really _touch her? Forbidden glances and stolen kisses in the rain were all well and good for her, when she could go home to her lover. What was I supposed to do? Hold onto fading memories of two, three years ago? Should I take pleasure in knowing she was happy with the one she loved, able to pass notes in class and hold hands in public; able to stare at him in front of our family and affirm their love? What was the established mode of acceptance? Was there even one?

Sometimes I wished she would talk to me in her head. I was well aware that I had asked her not to, but a small part of me recklessly looked forward to her disobedience. She never faltered though. I never heard her voice in my head, never a secret message of reassurance. Too dangerous, we both knew that.

So I was reduced to bitterness, allowing it to build and build until something would break - be it her or me, one of us would always capitulate to it if too much time went by.

In many ways, Rosalie Hale was all I knew. She was my whole world, everything I knew about love circulated around her. She made up a substantial portion of all things important to me, and in many ways…she _was_ me. Not just a part of me, like Carlisle, Esme or Emmett - even Alice or Jasper - no…she actually _was_ me. Not like me, not similar to me - _me_.

_One soul in two bodies,_ she would say when we could be alone.

Sometimes I even allowed myself to believe that. She could have convinced me of anything, I would follow her through hell if it was important to her. Christ, who was I kidding? I'd have followed her there if it was for a pair of Goddamned shoes she wanted. So yes, I could sometimes believe that what she was saying was correct. It felt like it too. The joining of two halves; completion. When I was apart from her, it physically hurt. When we could smash our bodies together, kissing like no other being had ever done before, I _knew_ without a shadow of a doubt that she was right, because nothing less than the phenomenon she described could render me so shatteringly, violently….whatever the word was. Complete, whole, beautiful, broken, rapturous, euphoric….endless descriptions for a sensation that eluded all true depiction.

Even then, as she sat behind me in the car, I could taste her scent. She surrounded my awareness, filled my senses and pulsed through me like some unholy travesty of blood. As she studiously worked on ignoring me, trying to pull her mind into loyalty while she sat beside her husband, I wanted nothing more than to stop the car, pull her out of it and crash her mouth to mine so I could feel that feeling. So I could be made whole; so I could drown in the deafening silence, in the feel of her mouth, her hands on my skin, her body moving against mine.

Her kiss was the only one I had ever known; outside of her, there was almost nothing in the world for me. Or at least there hadn't been until two weeks ago.

Now there was a fracture in the devout (if somewhat bitter) certainty of what Rosalie and I shared. That girl had come along with her irresistible blood and cracked the conviction of my obsession, if only very slightly. I didn't know how, I didn't understand why. I only knew that now there was someone else in the arena where, previously, there had only been Rosalie. Though this girl didn't compare to her in any way, shape or form… there was still something about her that made me frown. Some unnamed sensation that hardly rivalled what I felt for Rosalie, but had shaken me nonetheless.

Bella Swan; strange, captivatingly fragile little creature that she was, had entered my life and altered it in an imperceptible, but nonetheless unstoppable manner.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel so much so that the leather creaked and threatened to split under my fingers. The shape of everyone's thoughts altered.

Alice: _'Poor Edward, so afraid that he'll hurt this girl. Never believes me when I tell him everything will be alright. Jasper looks so angry, must be hard for him too. Cheer him up later, get him to smile in that way I love.'_

Emmett: _'Obviously didn't hunt long enough I guess. Hate to see him like this. Affects us all, especially Rose. She'll be so pissed if we have to leave. Hope they don't fight again - missed her last night while she fixed his car. Would have been funny to see her break it though. God I love it when she loses her temper.'_

Rosalie: _'Idiot. Can't keep his damned emotions to himself. Look at him, sitting there all tight shouldered and stressed; over what? Some revolting little moron…makes me sick, makes me so angry, makes me want to lean forward and touch his shoulders, soothe the tension out…trace the curve of his backbone with my…Oh God stop it! What is wrong with me? Emmett. Look at Emmett.'_

Jasper: _'Forty years and no damned method of control. Beyond reckless, beyond dangerous. Just plain stupid now. Have to endure this much longer, going to lose my own mind in the process. Oh great - yeah, look at her in the rear-view. Great idea. Nice and inconspicuous. Bravo, Edward. Really._'

I tried to maintain my focus so I didn't send us hurtling off the icy road into a tree. Though to be honest, it sounded like a good idea. The thought of going to school today, having to endure seeing Bella again made my stomach clench. But a part of me wanted to see her; a part that was completely unrelated to the monstrous aspect. This part of me was quieter, more human. It hoped I could control myself long enough to talk to her again.

The car was too quiet. Too much stifling silence in the small space. Alice seemed to sense this too, for she leaned forward between Jasper and I and turned on the CD player, humming to the music that immediately filled the air with crystal sharp quality. Holly Brook's soft voice floated around us, singing of Cellar Doors. Not a CD of mine, Rosalie must have had it playing while she fixed the car, or Alice maybe as she had sat with Rosalie last night while she fixed it.

Emmett made a slightly exaggerated vomiting noise. "Why is she crying about a cellar door?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

Alice elbowed him in the ribs with amusing tranquillity. Her CD, obviously. Rosalie pursed her lips at Emmett disapprovingly, but her eyes were smiling. Another sad, somewhat resigned pain flared and subsided somewhere in my chest again. It might have been jealousy, though I was so used to it by now that I barely acknowledged it.

Jasper's thoughts solidified to speech. _'You need to get a better handle on this. The both of you. Alice isn't stupid and neither is Emmett. You're being careless and I don't pretend to know why. All I know is you can both lie better than this.'_

I didn't respond at all to his warning; we had thankfully arrived at the school. I drove inside the parking lot, to our usual space far from the doors to the entrance. Quickly, I scanned to see if she was there or not. My senses alerted me to the fact that she was. She had only just arrived herself. My stomach muscles tightened and that quiet, human side of me felt a little hopeful. If I stayed in control, I could talk to her. Maybe. Or, the darker side of me argued, I could lure her back to the car like I wanted to, and rip open her skin…drink the flow of blood that I so desperately craved and enjoy the bliss that her bleeding would generate.

I stopped the car and let them all pile out before me so I could have a second alone to compose myself. Though Jasper would know regardless, and Emmett could have cared less, I didn't want to look weak in front of my brothers. Strange how little things like that seemed to matter at such moments.

Once outside, the evidence of her presence was overwhelming. They were all aware of it, but none of them as wrenched into attention by it as I was. There she was; temptation personified. The scent of her blood, seeping through her skin, was agonising. I looked over at her, standing by her truck, stuffing books into her bag. I was amazed that her vehicle had made it here intact, given the state of the roads. More importantly, I was relieved.

Where the hell had that come from?

But the relief and it's consequential confusion were short lived. A screeching sound snapped my attention away from her; tyres squealing against the road, failing to gain traction. A van was speeding, out of control, towards her.

Something took over, I would never fully know what I felt in that moment. All I knew was that there ceased to be a problematic world; replaced by the fact that she couldn't die. I couldn't let her die…she could not die.

And I was moving without knowing it, saving her life effortlessly without fully understanding why. This fascinating girl beneath me, so mouth-watering but utterly soft and warm. I was gazing into her eyes, the intensity of the need to save her life had shaken me. I didn't understand where it had come from; a human life had never been more important to me until that moment. She looked up at me, dazed and in pain. She had hit her head on the ground. No thoughts, of course. Silence was dancing all around us. I looked down at her, painfully confused by myself and my involuntary actions. She _was_ beautiful, I decided and the moment I realised it, something else clicked into place. Something I certainly hadn't imaged would ever happen. Something I didn't even mentally vocalise. Suddenly I was frightened for a hundred different reasons. Her safety was 80% of them and that was genuinely frightening. Frightening because I couldn't pinpoint when it had happened or why. I felt like the last person to find out about a secret. I suddenly wondered what it would be like to touch her, how hot her skin would feel…how soft…

The world was coming into view again, people approaching the scene. This was bad; I had risked so much to save her, but I refused to regret it.

I wanted to stay with her; that small part of me loved the way she looked at me. Like I was the focal point of her whole universe. It made me warm; too warm.

This was bad for her; if her safety was really going to be a priority of mine then the best thing was for me to get away from her. I knew this; I knew how dangerous I was, even if she didn't. I knew it all, yet I couldn't leave her.

"Bella? Are you alright?" I was shocked by how desperately I needed to know this.

"I'm fine."

Hardly satisfactory. She would say that anyway. Her eyes had depths to them I hadn't seen before; her iris's were dilating massively. I was aware of her pulse, oddly regular, and of her smell. I tried not to think about it. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she didn't add anything else to her two worded, poor reassurance. She tried to sit up, but I didn't like that.

"Be careful. I think you hit your head.

"Ow." Ow? Ow was all she had to say, while I sat here fraught with concern? After she had almost been crushed between a van and her stupid truck?

"That's what I thought."

"How in the…how did you get over here so fast?"

Even in the midst of what was possibly a concussion, the girl was still too damned observant. I tried not to let my face change, though my concern was still predominantly circulating around her wellbeing.

"I was standing right next to you, Bella." Stupid, she would never believe that, but I was still to focused on waiting for any other signs of injury to spring forth to really fabricate and decent lie.

Judging by the look she gave me, it wasn't going to fly. There would be time later to convince her that she'd hit her head too hard. The nature of the injury would make it so that any story she told anyone would be deeply questionable.

The proximity between us was bordering on unbearable now, I had to move back to avoid the delectable scent that filled my mouth.

Then she actually tried to stand up. What was wrong with this girl? Did she have a burning desire for permanent injuries?

"Just stay put for now."

"But it's cold." She was worried about the _cold_? I despaired of her; furious at myself for staying here, putting her life at risk while she smelled so damned good and also furious at her for her blasé attitude towards maintaining her health which - to me - was suddenly paramount. "You were there."

And again with the irritatingly accurate observations. "No, I wasn't."

"I saw you."

"Bella," I said, enjoying the sound of her name roll off my tongue far too much. "I was standing with you and I pulled you out of the way."

If I had said that to any other girl at this school, they would have nodded along, wide eyed and only too desperate to agree with me. But it had to be her, didn't it?

"No."

"Please, Bella." Again, too much pleasure at something as simple as her name.

"Why?"

"Trust me." Possibly the worst advice I had ever given anyone.

"Will you promise to explain everything to me later?"

Of course not. "Fine."

"Fine."

Stubborn too. When coupled with her uncanny observational skills, her dangerously tempting blood and her deeply fascinating silence it became clear to me that Bella Swan was something of a predicament, putting it lightly.

And behind me, Rosalie was doing something she hadn't done in years. Her thoughts turned solid, aimed at me with such genuine violence that it almost made me flinch.

'_You stupid bastard.'_

*

If Bella looked dazed, it was nothing to how I felt. I was still struggling to understand what had possessed me to do something so risky - to endanger my family - for a human girl? A human who to my cold, dispassionate eyes was nothing extraordinary, save for an absence of noise where there ought to be thoughts. But when I could not force detachment, it all came flooding back in; unstoppable, like the tide.

Bella was something I had never encountered. Even as I watched while she complained about having to be in hospital, my feelings for her, whatever they were, increased steadily. She was warm, curious, intriguing, beautiful, stubborn, touchable. I could have written pages and pages describing her because, for once, there were actually words for what I felt. She was tangible; very much real in my world, though I had yet to decide if she was a blessing or a curse. There she lay, looking furiously embarrassed and it made me want to laugh. I loved seeing her like that, I realised. Even though I was still fraught with worry about what injuries I may have caused her (admittedly while saving her from certain death), her irritation made me smile.

About her, even while annoyed and frustrated, something radiated gently around her. Something innately beautiful, brought about by the many little oddities that comprised of who she was. And because I couldn't rely on hearing her thoughts, I found myself constantly monitoring her every exterior motion. She was so frail, breakable. Even sitting there, furious with me, she looked so vulnerable. I felt a massive swell of defensiveness; I wanted to protect this strange creature, this girl so unaware of how many times she had come perilously close to dying at my hand, for something that was out of her control.

I watched her face change when her father came in, all gruff concern and endearing awkwardness. She smiled to reassure him, bringing herself to a sitting position. I rolled my eyes. Did she never give herself a break?

I realised that I would have been quite happy to stand there all day, until she left. In fact, the idea that soon I would have to let her out of my sight was worrying.

_Why_?

Why was she suddenly the focal point of my universe? Why did I care so much? There was no logical reason for it; I owed her nothing, she wasn't my kin.

But that quiet human part of me was finding a voice. It told me that debt was nothing to do with the way I felt. It told me to shut up and stay where I was, because protecting her was absolutely crucial. It was telling me to accept this, because it certainly wasn't going anywhere.

I needed time alone to break it all down. I needed to examine what I felt, and try to put it in a context that would make sense. I needed to figure it all out, because it was starting to feel as though everyone else knew something I didn't.

I thought of Rosalie's voice in my head and I closed my eyes. Such hatred, such vicious anger at what I had done. Rosalie was and would always be complex; it was nothing new for her to exhibit anger or violence towards me. There had been times when she had hit me hard enough to take my head clean off and by the same token, I had called her names foul enough to make me hate myself for weeks. Whatever was between us, was of a volatile nature. It always had been, so hearing her voice like that in my head wasn't such a shock…but the context of it was. What had I done, really, to deserve such a flare of hatred? Saved a life? Wasn't that a universally acknowledged good deed?

The quiet, human voice knew exactly why she had said that, but I didn't want to hear it. There was enough going on in my head.

But the moment I tried to shove it away, the same problem presented itself in solid form. She was with Carlisle and Emmett, a few corridors away, and she was furious.

My lips tightened in a thin line and I prepared my defences, though what use would it be? I had done them all a great wrong by threatening our safety; I knew it was inexcusable. Yet Rosalie's anger was of a different nature. She was angry at me for a completely different reason, though she would shield herself by falling into step with the others and claiming outrage on behalf of my recklessness.

Bella couldn't see me from where I was watching her, but she would undoubtedly notice when the others arrived in a matter of moments. I decided to meet them, away from Bella. I didn't like the idea of her being exposed to Rosalie's fury.

They had sensed me coming, and so waited in an empty hallway. They came into view and I steadied myself. Emmett had his hands on her shoulders, speaking in calming, low tones. Carlisle was shaking his head, defending me. Rosalie's hands were fisted together at her sides. No rings; she had taken the one Emmett had given her thirty years ago off of her little finger. She wouldn't like it if that snapped.

"Edward," Carlisle said upon catching sight of me. "Are you alright?"

Physically, I knew he had no concerns. The car could have landed on me from heights of a thousand feet and I could have shaken it off. He meant it in a different way, of course.

"Yes," I said, stopping a few feet short of Rosalie. She wouldn't look me in the eye; I tried to pretend that I didn't care. "I'm fine. Is she alright?"

Emmett's hand on Rosalie's shoulder tightened a little, keeping her in place because she had made a small movement towards me. "Easy, babe," he said soothingly. He looked at me and I blinked in surprise. The normally sympathetic kindness was distant from his eyes. He looked almost…angry. Emmett was never angry.

"Do you know the danger you've put us in?" he asked, barely any trace of the camaraderie that we normally shared. It sent a nasty cold shiver down my spine. Any hostility from Emmett was a mere glimpse of how he might be, should he ever discover another, more devastating secret.

"I'm aware, yes."

Carlisle sighed, thinking of how hard this must be for me. Typical for him to be thinking of my wellbeing when I had threatened the safety of our whole family.

"She'll be fine," he said quietly. "I've seen her scans. Because of you, she'll be fine."

I wished he hadn't said it, because Rosalie let slip a snarl through her gritted teeth.

"Yes," she ground out, still not looking at me. "_Because of you_, _**she**_will be fine!"

"As will we," I promised. "No-one will believe her, even if she was of a mind to tell anyone. Not," I added. "That I think she is."

Emmett shook his head while Rosalie laughed bitterly. "Oh come on, Edward," Emmett said, his solemnity throwing me off track. "You're hardly an impartial judge."

"Excuse me?"

He opened his mouth to elaborate, when Carlisle cut him off with a look. He didn't need to say it though, I knew what he was getting at. I shut it out, because it was too complicated for me to even begin to contemplate what he thought was happening.

"This is not the place," Carlisle said, quietly announcing an intermission into what I knew would be full on war, later. "Emmett, Rose - go back to school. We'll discuss this later."

Emmett nodded, giving me one final look. I would have given almost anything to see him break into a small, sympathetic smile…but he didn't. It marked the gravity of the situation. Rosalie turned away with disgust, nodding respectfully at Carlisle before she stalked away.

When they had gone, Carlisle put his hand on my shoulder. "They're just angry," he said. "They'll calm down. You'll see."

"Will I?" I asked, feeling colder than I had done in years. I had been prepared for Rosalie's ferocious rage; I had not been prepared for Emmett to look at me like that. I could never recall there ever being bad blood between us; we had been through so much together, things that even Rosalie didn't know about. He was my brother; I would have died for him without thinking. Yet this situation had us on opposing sides. He wasn't on my side, he didn't have my back. He had looked at me like I was a threat to all he loved. He had looked at me as if from a distance.

"Yes, we should go to her now."

I shook my head, raising my eyes upwards. "Carlisle, I told you she won't tell anyone."

He shrugged. "Then there's no harm in checking."

"How can I check? Unless a concussion has opened the door to her mind, I doubt I'll be able to glean anything!"

He smiled and shook his head minutely, focusing on the clipboard. I tried to ignore his thoughts and attempted to crush down my own. This day was turning hellish and I wasn't sure just how much more I could take.

*

In all the years we had been together, admittedly some of us longer than others, our family had never been divided. Regardless of what the problem was - an accidental death (Emmett and Jasper), overcoming deeply rooted emotional problems (Alice, though no-one would ever suspect it), dealing with one the deficient side of immortality and it's consequences (Rosalie and Esme) and working through the endless facets of every issue that we endured - we could always work it out _together_. As a whole. As a family.

Now there was a very evident split between us as we sat or stood around the large, black marble table in the dining room. Rosalie sat at the end, Emmett and Jasper stood behind her. Esme was standing in the middle, looking worriedly back and forth from each one of her children. Beside me, Alice and Carlisle. The fracture in the my life that Bella Swan had created, had increased immensely until it became an actual divide.

And the situation was only getting worse.

Apart from siding against me, Jasper had also created another problem for me in that he was prepared to go to any lengths necessary to maintain the security of our family. Something, he thought to himself, that I obviously was incapable of doing in such a state of mind. He was very willing to kill Bella - to take the matter neatly out of my hands, and deal with it once and for all. To make matters worse, he and Rosalie were evenly matched in their determination to clean up the mess I had made by saving a human life. Only their motives differed.

Emmett would side with whatever Rosalie decided. That much was obvious from the way he was standing, arms crossed, grim faced. Alice had taken my side, but the reasoning for it was inexplicably insane. Carlisle would not, I knew, condone killing an innocent girl. Further backing to his resolve was that he would never hurt someone his son had feelings for.

These _'feelings_' everyone kept silently talking about; I didn't even know what they were. Murderous desire or inappropriate fascination? They seemed more like a state of mind, than actual feelings to me. But what did I know, right?

Esme stood in the middle - determinedly Swiss. She wanted the situation to be resolved, seeing her family like this upset her more than I had ever known her to be. I wanted to reassure her, tell her that this was all going to be back to normal soon…but I had no faith in that, and I hated lying to her.

"So," Carlisle said in a calm, but determined tone. "Let's discuss this."

"Very well," Rosalie said, crossing her arms. "The facts are as follows. Isabella Swan should have died today. There was no human force that could have stopped that van. Anyone who saw it speeding towards her would claim that nothing less than a miracle could have saved her. And as it happened, a miracle did occur. Edward Cullen flew to her rescue, stopping the van from crushing her to death and saving her life. This was something she witnessed. She _saw_ him push away a van with his bare hand and then lift it up. Not only this, but she is also particularly observant for a human. She pays a lot of attention to Edward. It won't be long before she figures it out. Whether we stay or go, she'll tell someone eventually. This, we cannot allow."

Carlisle nodded, thinking deeply. "I can see the problem she presents. How do you plan to remedy this?"

Rosalie raised her eyebrows as if that were patently obvious. "She has to die, of course."

Jasper nodded, his eyes were flatly calm and quite darker than I had seen them in years. "It wouldn't be difficult or at all painful for her. She would simply never wake up. Latent injuries from the head trauma. Brain haemorrhage, perhaps."

I could feel my fists curling up as they spoke so rationally about her demise. I could picture her sleeping quietly in her bed, while Jasper snuck in to her room and murdered her silently…making it look so easily like an accident.

"No-one would suspect. We would be free to remain here until such a time as would be prudent to leave," Rosalie went on evenly. "That would also take the guilt quite nicely away from you, Edward. No blood on your hands, or more accurately…on your tongue."

"Rose," Emmett muttered softly. "Don't…"

"Don't what?" she snapped, her eyes flashing. "When will someone just admit the fact that Edward is no longer in control of himself? Why are we all skirting around this, pretending that he has it under control? You don't!" she shouted at me. "You have lost control of your senses and put us all in danger as a direct result! You can't kill her because of what you _feel_ for her, but that doesn't mean we all have to pay for your stupidity!"

"Oh yes, because you - perfect, wonderful Rosalie Hale - have _never _lost control of yourself! You would never betray yourself for something as minor as _feelings_! You would never put your family in danger for simple gratification, would you?"

Jasper looked at me sharply, but I didn't care. I forgot that my whole family was in the room with us, I forgot that other people were there.

She looked at me undiluted hatred. "No _feelings_ in the world would be worth risking my family!" she spat. "_Nothing_ in the world is worth that!"

"Oh really? I think I vaguely recall some men being torn apart like rag dolls in Rochester - care to explain how you were putting us first while you were doing that, huh Rosalie?"

"Oh, what's the matter, Edward?" she mocked. "Feeling left out again? Did you think you could find yourself a little girlfriend?"

"Yeah, that's right, Rosalie," I said, just managing to keep my voice from trembling with fury. "Because you weren't available, I had to make myself something to distract me from your breathtaking beauty. But what was she, compared to your astounding arrogance, conceit and malevolence?"

"I'd get used to talking about her in past tense, if I were you," she said, nastily.

I slammed my fist down on the table so hard that the marble cracked beneath it, sending a splintering fracture all the way to where Rosalie sat. She didn't flinch or blink. Jasper seemed more ready, he was preparing himself to fight me if he had to. It might have happened, if Carlisle hadn't intervened.

"Enough," he said sharply. "This is pointless. Fighting over trivialities is useless, not to mention unnecessary. We are all aware of your differences; there's nothing to be gained by slinging mud."

"I agree," Emmett said unexpectedly. "We need to work this out, not fight about it."

I knew he was furious with me for bringing up Rochester, and I knew we weren't back on proper terms yet…but he did feel sorry for me. And he hated to see us fighting. It was a small glimmer of hope that allowed me to calm myself down enough to manage speech.

"Then let me say this. I will protect Bella to any cost. If anyone goes near her with intent to harm her, I will stop them."

Rosalie stood up, shoulder to shoulder with Jasper. "Oh really?"

"Want me to demonstrate?"

"Please!" Esme cried. "Please stop it!"

"Oh!" Alice gasped beside me. She hadn't spoken so far, and I suddenly realised why. She had been focusing on the future, Bella's future and mine to be exact. I scanned her mind for the images that had come to her and what I saw caused me to cry out.

"No!"

That was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted to protect her, to keep her from any hard I might cause her. What Alice saw was a complete reversal of all that.

"It's solidifying," she said. "Every moment that passes, it becomes more real."

"NO! I WON'T LET IT HAPPEN!"

"Let what happen?" Emmett asked, sounding annoyed. "Care to let us in on the private conversation?"

Rosalie's mouth curled up at the ends, her lips making a very bitter, wry smile. "Don't you see, darling?" she said to Emmett, her voice dripping in honey coloured acid. "He's going to turn her."

Though I was aware of everyone's reactions to this, the only one I could really focus on, was Rosalie's. Every fibre in her being was screaming against such a possibility. I knew that were it ever to happen, she would regard it as the greatest wrongdoing she had ever encountered. Royce King would be seconded by such an unspeakable transgression in her mind. There was nothing I could have done to her that would make her hate me more. _Nothing_.

"Oh well," Esme said, though I barely heard it. "That's one way around it."

Esme would be in favour of such an idea. Not only because it would - to her mind - make me happy, but it also meant a larger, more complete family. Carlisle was torn; I knew his struggle with the idea of granting immortality, but thus far he had made peace with himself over the fact that we all would have died had it not been for his hand. This was different though; killing an innocent, healthy (albeit cosmically inauspicious) girl was a different story. Emmett was in favour of anything that meant this fight was resolved. Alice was the most for it, she had seen visions of Bella being her friend. Jasper and Rosalie remained solidly against it, though Jasper could be convinced if I got him alone.

And Rosalie…Rosalie would never, ever forgive me.

But such opinions were redundant in the face of my overwhelming opposition to the idea. Bella Swan had to stay human; protected and alive, warm and breathing. The concept of turning her into one of us was unthinkable to me, for a number of reasons that I couldn't allow myself to delve into at such a time.

"Well one things is for certain," Carlisle said firmly. "No-one will harm Bella Swan. We will monitor the situation closely. I believe Edward to be correct when he says that she can be trusted. I do not think she will tell anyone of what she may or may not know."

"You cannot be sure of that, Carlisle!" Rosalie insisted.

"No," he said gently. "But I can be sure of the fact that I will not allow you to lose part of yourself by killing an innocent."

Rosalie looked away from him, her lips in a tight line. Emmett put his hands on her shoulders again, whispering to her that Carlisle was right and she needed to calm down. I knew this was over, for now. Carlisle wouldn't allow any of them to hurt Bella. The fight was over, but the war had just begun.

A whole new landscape was before me, uncharted territory. I didn't understand what was happening, for it was happening so fast.

But about four things I was absolutely positive.

First, Bella could never become a vampire.

Second, there was a part of me - and I wasn't sure how dominant this part might be - that might be slowly falling in love with her.

Third, the thirst for her blood was almost unstoppable. I was unsure of my ability to contain it.

Fourth, Rosalie felt unconditionally and irrevocably betrayed by my actions today. She was baying for blood and if it was blood she wanted….it would not be Bella's.

It would be mine.

*

The only way to explain it without questioning my own sanity, was that I was protecting Bella. Rosalie's anger had transcended anything I had felt from her in years. She was furious; beside herself. Though she verbally promised Carlisle that she would do no harm to Bella, I knew hadn't dismissed the idea. Such was her fury that she was counting the time it would take for the rest of the family to forgive her. She was prepared to deal with backlash for a few years, if it meant she could kill Bella Swan.

So I was protecting Bella, wasn't I? That was all there was to it. By forcing Rosalie to take it all out on me, I was keeping Bella safe. Simple, as long as I didn't question the other reasons behind it.

The question of how to go about getting her alone was more difficult than anything else. I knew she would never consent to be alone with me now…maybe ever again…but I didn't need her consent. Did I?

These were dark waters I was wading out into now. Questioning consent, albeit concerning something completely non-sexual, about something I was preparing to do to Rosalie was monstrous. But there was no way I could allow her within five miles of Bella until such murderous intent could be subdued.

So maybe I could use force. Maybe I could restrain her enough to take her somewhere and then let her do whatever she wanted to me, even if it actually cost me my life.

Yes, it had to be done. I knew she would kill Bella and not blink an eye. It wouldn't upset her in the very slightest to know that she was ending the life of a person she so fervently disliked.

And that could _not_ happen.

I needed help with this; it couldn't be done alone. Two people needed to help me, and I knew if I could convince one I could convince the other.

Jasper was with Alice, which made it that much easier. They were in the gardens that night, sitting side by side beneath a large apple tree. The scent of the fruit was almost pleasant but it couldn't get rid of the horrible taste in my mouth at the thought of what I was going to have to do.

"Hey," I said quietly, walking over to them in the dark. Alice looked up at me, a small frown permeating her lovely eyes. "Can we talk?"

The small formality of asking if we could talk was for Jasper's benefit. I wasn't sure of where we stood after this evening, and I needed his help now so I was careful not to tread on his toes.

He nodded at me, no hostility in his mind or his eyes.

"What are you….? Oh Edward, you can't do that!" Alice said, seeing exactly what my masochistic plan entailed. Jasper frowned, his emotional perception unable to detect the particulars of my plan.

"Can't do what?"

I knelt down in front of them. "I need you to help me."

"Help you with what?"

It was Alice who answered, her lovely voice almost trembling. "He's going to kidnap Rosalie and let her take it out on him. To protect Bella from it. Edward, I don't think that's necessary. I've been watching Rosalie very closely. I haven't seen anything that would indicate…"

"No, you wouldn't because she's being clever. Hiding her intentions; not making any solid plans. Keeping it as wishful thinking for now. But I can read her mind, Alice. I know how she feels, what she's prepared to do. I can't let that happen."

Something in Jasper's mind clicked into place. He understood the nature of my feelings now. His pity for me increased to an unbearable pitch - I tried to tune it out.

"And you want us to help you?" he asked. "How?"

Alice shot Jasper a look, clearly telling him not to encourage me. "Don't be ridiculous! We're not helping him! It's madness!"

"But to let her kill Bella?" I demanded of Alice, playing on her feelings regarding her future relationship with Bella. "What's that?"

"But Edward," she groaned. "I can't let you do this. It'll damage the relationship between you two forever, and you're both bad enough as it is."

She was voicing one my worst fears, unknowingly. I knew without a doubt that after tonight, there would be nothing between us but hatred. But I _couldn't_ let anything happen to Bella, I just couldn't.

"I know," I insisted. "I know. It's my decision to make, Alice. I'm hardly sacrificing a life long friendship!"

Jasper spoke in his mind. _'Do you have any idea what you're doing? Think…think seriously about what you're doing!'_

"But…" Alice tried.

"I know what I'm doing, Alice!" I cut across, answering Jasper's question as well as silencing her objections. "Either you'll help me or you won't. It's going to happen either way, but without your help it'll be much worse."

And that was how I convinced Alice to lie for me. Jasper would do it anyway, he felt guilty about earlier and was open to helping me in ways that slipped beneath the radar of our parents. Alice would tell Carlisle, Esme and Emmett that she and Rose were going late-night shopping to take her mind off of what had occurred earlier. Jasper would back up my claims that I was going hunting, alone. He would also speak quietly to Emmett - after he offered to come with me - and tell him that I needed some time to myself.

That was how it would happen. I knew it was deeply upsetting for Alice to be involved in something like this; she had already told me that she would do everything in her power to avoid seeing whatever Rosalie was doing to me. I knew she hated the potential cruelty we harboured towards one another. But I promised her that this was the only way to make everything alright. To keep Bella safe, to let Rosalie have her pound of flesh, to establish some sort of equilibrium in the family once more.

What I would later tell them all, if I survived whatever Rosalie was going to unleash upon me, was that I had decided to stay away from Bella. I would neither kill nor turn her and I wasn't going to leave. I was too weak to leave her and without my family I couldn't generate the strength to stay away.

So all I had to do was keep her life - that I was going to have _nothing_ to do with - safe. Once I had safeguarded her existence and ensured that Rosalie had nothing left inside her that could engender murderous hostility, I would leave her to it. Ignore her, be cold to her…whatever it took.

And I would deal with the pain of _that_ later on.

Currently, there was a more pressing issue to deal with.

So I stayed away and listened while my terrible plan fell into place. I listened to Rosalie agree to get out of the house with Alice, if not with much enthusiasm. I listened to Carlisle and Esme tell her that they loved her and appreciated her protectiveness. I listened to Emmett reciting words that were meaningless to anyone else, but were full of relevance and meaning to his wife…his soul mate…his whole happiness wrapped up in one person. I listened, then, to Jasper telling everyone an hour later that I had gone hunting. Emmett offered to go after me, desperate for a chance to talk to me alone. That hurt, to hear how much he wanted things to be right between us. I heard Jasper put him off, insisting that I needed time alone and that I would be fine after a few hours.

And then I left the area, running instead of driving, and I went to the place where I knew Alice was taking Rosalie.

It took me all of twenty minutes to catch up to them, though they were driving a BMW M3 at high speed along a moderately deserted highway.

It wouldn't be long before Rosalie figured out what Alice was doing, especially when she saw where they were going.

The only place I could think of where she could damage me as much as she wanted, without leaving colossal damage in her wake. The ocean. They were headed south down the 101, towards the Olympic National Park, where Alice had told me she would stop the car right on the coast.

I ran as fast as my immortal body would allow me; roughly a hundred or so kilometres per hour. My mind was in disturbing disarray; I hoped once this was taken care of, I would once again feel some semblance of sanity. Once I had removed myself from Bella Swan's life, once Rosalie had vented her brutality on me…it would be over.

I followed the familiar scent of the car, though I was bad at tracking, it was easy enough to follow the scent of Alice and Rosalie. They'd had the top down, something Rosalie wouldn't normally allow if they were travelling at high speed; her hair, of course. But tonight she clearly wasn't concerned about her hair. Maybe she wanted to feel the cold air hitting her face, as it was hitting mine as I ran through the darkness along the grassy banks adjacent to the 101, overtaking cars as I went.

I passed Lower Hoh Road and realised I was almost there. Rosalie would be demanding to know why they had come to the coast by now. Would Alice continue to lie, or would she stay silent until I arrived? I hoped she would forgive me for putting her in such a situation. I didn't even let myself hope for forgiveness from Rosalie.

I flew through the night air; through wide open spaces towards the ocean.

I stopped myself just in time before I went hurtling off the high cliff and I looked around, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with how fast I had been running.

The scent of them was obvious when I was looking for it so hard and it was so familiar to me. Alice hadn't gone far from the road, the car had stopped twenty feet from the edge.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself; could I do this? The moon glared down at me, mocking me with it's brightness and omniscience. The ocean rolled in and out; black and endless.

I thought of Bella, sleeping in her bed only fifty kilometres or so from where I stood and my resolve turned to cement. I had to do this, regardless of the tempestuous conflict in my head and in my heart. I had to do this to protect her…nothing more…to ensure her protection.

There were voices on the wind; Rosalie arguing with Alice. I could see them now, the wind blowing towards me from the ocean giving me an advantage. They had both gotten out of the car, standing on either side of it arguing. Rosalie was demanding to know why Alice had brought her here, telling her to stay out of the situation. Alice was trying to reassure Rosalie that this was for the best, it really was.

Which was when Rosalie's suspicion spiked and she took a whole step back. I froze, waiting to see what she would do.

"Meaning what?" she asked.

Alice didn't know how to answer that; a few more seconds and Rosalie would get back in the car and drive away, with or without Alice. She wasn't stupid; she knew that something wasn't right and for Alice to have lied to her it was something substantial.

So I broke into a run before my mind could point out the obscenity of what I was about to do. I ran flat out, as fast as I had run before. She turned only a split second before the impact to see me and her mouth opened slightly.

Then I collided with her in such a way that the air seemed to vibrate and echo with the sheer force of it. Had she been prepared, she might have been able to stop me, but as it was I caught her by surprise. We both hurtled backwards, toward and then over the cliff.

We were plunging downwards; I realised far too late that the tide was out.

I hit the sand, face up. I was shaken horribly, my eyes taking a second to focus on the starry night above me. Everything in my body seemed to be pulsing with ripples of the impact. I couldn't hear anything for the time being; not the ocean, not Rosalie's thoughts…not my own.

Then it lifted and I was able to stand up. I spun around to see where Rosalie had landed. She was picking herself up off a rock, her body lying at a jarringly strange angle. A human would have died instantly, but Rosalie just shook her hair out of her eyes and rolled her neck so the bones cracked loudly.

I heard the car from above; Alice had left. Just the two of us; I tried not to appreciate the bitter irony.

She put a hand to her chest and for a moment I thought she might be seriously hurt. I started forward when I realised she was looking for something. Her mind was frighteningly calm…disjointed…detached. Like the mind of someone on thorazine. She wanted the ring Emmett had given her, that she had been wearing around her neck today in case she snapped it by accident.

"Rosalie," I said, so softly that it might have been carried away by the sea breeze. "Rose…"

"Where…?" she was saying, looking all around. "Where's…?"

I realised there was something in my hand…a small band of silver hanging on a delicate, broken chain. I had torn it from her neck while we fell. Well, that made things easier, didn't it?

"Rosalie," I said more clearly. "I've got it. It's here. Look."

And the temporary simplicity vanished from her mind, lifting like a fog. It all came flooding back to her in a venomous tide. Her upper lip curled in a furious sneer and she called me a terrible name.

I held out the ring on it's chain to her…it was like cutting open my hands and jumping into the water with a great white. More dangerous, perhaps.

She removed herself from the rocks and stood opposite me, shaking as hard as I was. She was beyond angry….beyond furious. I watched her in awe; both willing and terrified at the same time.

But she didn't move. She didn't take the ring and try to wrench my head off as I knew she wanted to. She didn't launch at me, inflicting the utmost pain.

"Well come on," I said. "Come on!"

But still she didn't make a move towards me. That unnerved me; why wasn't she moving? Hadn't I given her reason enough to pulverise me? To exhaust her viciousness on me, instead of Bella Swan? Did I need to provoke her further?

Though she didn't move, she did clamp her mind down; so hard it was almost painful. She hadn't done this in years…she hadn't needed to. No French lullaby, no distracting thoughts about her reflection…just black, echoing silence.

Had we reached yet another breaking point? Had I pushed her too far this time and she had snapped? Had I done what Royce King intended to do and broken her?

Though I had dreaded it, I suddenly found myself wanting…_needing_…her to be hurting me. I wanted the pain; I wanted as much as she could inflict.

"COME ON!" I shouted so loud that it bounced off the cliffs, lost to the wind.

She was shaking; I could see it in the moonlight, I could feel her breath trembling as she exhaled. I was shaking so hard that my teeth were almost rattling, the ring in my outstretched hand about to fall. What was she doing? Why wasn't she hurting me? Didn't she know….didn't she understand….?

"LOOK! I'M STANDING RIGHT HERE! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? I KNOW YOU WANT THIS…I KNOW YOU DO! COME ON! YOU…YOU HAVE TO! YOU….WE HAVE TO DO THIS SO THAT…._**COME ON!"**_

Now she didn't seem angry and I couldn't feel my own body. I felt like someone had detached me from reality….like I was trapped in some horrific nightmare and the only way out was to feel pain. Rosalie could do that…she was the only person who could do that…who could make me hurt.

But when she still didn't respond, I threw the ring down on the sand and moved towards her. I expected her to back away, but she stayed her ground. The look on her face was inexplicable; she seemed almost confused, but it was tainted by something else…fear? But not fear for herself, I knew that.

I didn't care what it was. I didn't care that I was losing my mind. I was slipping further and further from reality and I needed her to ground me.

The fury was fading fast, I could see it in her eyes. That wasn't good…I couldn't have that.

What was a little more sanity, right? A little more pride?

I hit her right across the face, so hard that it sent a cracking noise like a gun out to sea. Her face turned in accordance with the impact, but she didn't react to it.

That shocked me…almost enough to bring me back from the brink of my encroaching insanity. When had the situation turned so completely on it's axis? When had I lost my mind, exactly? When had this ceased to be a selfless act, in the name of protecting Bella Swan? Instead of _letting_ her hurt me I was trying to _make_ her. I was giving her every reason to, and she was refraining.

So I hit her again, sending her face in the other direction with a violent backhander. I could feel the numb horror, some small part of screaming at the atrocity I was committing. But what did it matter? She would never have touched me again, never have kissed me again…never looked at me again anyway. Right?

"COME ON, ROSALIE!" I exploded. "I'M RIGHT HERE! LOOK AT ME! I'M RIGHT HERE!"

But she _was_ looking at me. Looking at me as if she had never seen me before. The confusion had vanished - replaced by utter, blank disbelief at what she was seeing.

And she still refused to do it, refused to hurt me.

"Rosalie," I said, my voice unstable and foreign. "Please. Please. I need you to make me hurt. Please, you have to. Come on, I know you want to! You have to do it…please…._please_. Make me hurt…make me bleed."

And as soon as I had said it, the entirety of the thing hit me. It _all_ came crashing down around me in one cataclysmic inundation. Bella, her precious mortality, the fact that Rosalie would hate me forever, the responsibility of this mortal's life, the conflict, the helpless betrayal, Emmett, Carlisle, Rosalie…myself. Everything I had ignored for the past two weeks…Christ, the past _ninety years…_was suddenly in front of me and I couldn't hold onto my mind. I was going to lose it, literally. Everything was too loud, too chaotic. There wasn't a lifeline…I was going to be lost forever in this tragic chaos that was my mind forever.

I dropped to my knees because they gave out. Darkness was closing in and a part of me welcomed it. There was too much….too many lives lived in the space of ninety years…too much emotion, heartbreak, sorrow, excruciatingly wonderful bliss…lies, endless webs of lies and deception. Memories of things I had pretended weren't real…now spinning around me, choking me. People I had killed, the sounds their bodies made as I drained them. My father hitting my mother across the face once and the pain I had felt as I watched from the shadows. Carlisle feeling that he had failed me when I first left him in search of blood. Rosalie….endless, endless memories of Rosalie, some of them her own.

I was drowning in it, sinking beneath the unstoppable weight of everything as it bore down on me with all the determination of gravity. I couldn't stop it…there was no way to let it go, no way to bleed it out….

But then I felt something. I felt warmth on my face….I felt something move through my hair. I heard sounds that weren't vicious echoes of my own treacherous mind.

I opened my eyes and she was there, kneeling in front of me. She spoke to me with clear, if shaky, determination.

"Edward!" she was saying, pushing her fingers through my hair and curling them around my neck. "Edward! Look at me…_look at me_!"

I stared into her eyes, as if they were anchors to somewhere constant. The noises were fading, the images blurring into white. And Rosalie…Rosalie was there, looking at me as if everything that mattered to her was contained inside me.

No human could ever understand it…I wasn't sure that any being that had ever existed could understand it. I certainty didn't.

All I knew was that in those moments, while the ocean rolled in and out behind us - indifferent to my earth-shattering breakdown - she was the totality of my existence. There was no world, no Forks, no Bella Swan…._nothing_ except her. I had returned, literally, from the brink of insanity to find her kneeling before me, trying to keep me here.

And why? What had I done to deserve her? To deserve any measure of mercy or forgiveness? What wrongdoing hadn't I inflicted upon her? She _should_ be tearing me apart right now. That was the plan…let her rip into me, make me bleed and then it would be somehow alright. Instead I had broken apart and she had caught me before I fell into irreversible disrepair.

"Rose," I was saying without realising it. "Rose."

She closed her eyes and let out a trembling sigh of relief. She leant her forehead into mine, closing her eyes. "I thought you'd left me," she breathed.

My arms encircled her, pulling her body against mine. The sensation was fluid, like doing exactly what I was always meant to do. When my mouth found hers, there was no brutal clashing, no fervent grabbing at each other. It was melodic…rhythmical….flawless. Happening exactly the way it was always meant to…I wasn't in control at all and it didn't matter in the slightest. She was Rosalie and I was Edward….this was all that had to happen, ever.

I forgot about my fascinating, lovely Bella. There was no guilt; no need to shove the thought away because there was _nothing _wrong with this. My mind wasn't struggling for distraction. It was silent, perfect…everything and nothing.

And she was everywhere. Beneath me, above me, inside me, smothering me, devouring me, becoming me, possessing me. How had I ever allowed myself to forget this?

The numbness began to fade and I began to feel the true weight of the what I felt for her, coupled by the fact that I could feel what she felt for me. Her mouth against mine, her arms locked around my neck, her legs wrapping around me to pull me closer though it wasn't possible. I was as impatient for her skin as she was for mine. Clothes were removed carelessly, while we still struggled to maintain contact. The sensation of her lips, her tongue, her mouth…her hands moving all over my body…her silence amplified by the endless things her mind was saying to me…_how_ could I have forgotten this?

I was crying, but it didn't matter. Outside of her, nothing mattered. Not the deep, dark origins of whatever this was…not the consequences that waited patiently for us to finish…not the people we loved…not the ocean, or the moon or the world.

As we lay together, as entwined and close as it was possible for two separate bodies to be, I both lost and found myself in her. The world seemed to right itself.

And if I could have bled, she would have come pouring out of me. If I could have bled…I would have bled _her_.

*

_A/N - Wow. I actually freaked myself out while writing this, admittedly this is the product of five hours straight spent writing. I literally had to stop, somewhere around the end and take a break, look at LolCats and write on my LJ about how the intensity of writing this actually kinda got to me. So....it's done now, and upon rereading it, I'm less freaked out. I will say that I worked very hard on this chapter. I did something I've never done before...I conquered writer's block. I could feel it coming, trying to settle in but I grabbed it by the balls and refused to allow it. I worked VERY hard on this chapter therefore and I really hope you all enjoy it. __Very dark and angsty I know, but....sigh...I am a Scorpio. _

_Also, anyone who's read Midnight Sun will by now understand that I'm basically trying my best to ignore it in general, but I am keeping all the major plot points. Still totally in canon, I'm just rewriting bits and pieces. I don't want to rewrite Twilight, just doing it from Edwards POV, I want to really get the scenes that weren't in Twilight, so that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully it works. I'm kinda delerious right now from exhaustion. _

_So, shout outs: Endless thanks and love to the AMAZING Amber and Robyn. These wonderful people are incredible,_ _really. For their unending support and interest in my story, thank you! Youko-Kokuryuuha for such great, constructive reviews. narutoclaymorelove4eva for amazingly lovely feedback. Femme Teriyaki...thank you so much for the reviews, hope this one was long enough! __ MarieLondon, AcesWild, Maximista, Sky Samuelle and everyone else....please let me just say that I'm running out of ways to thank you all enough for such (in my case) unprecedented kindness and attention. I am extremely thrilled that such lovely, intelligent people have taken an interest in my story. So really, THANK YOU!_

_The next chapter won't be up so fast, methinks. Need to recover from writing this one. Honestly, it took a lot out of me in an almost physical way. Never had that happen before. So....._

_REVIEWS? Oh you know how I adore reviews! Talking to you guys and hearing what you thought makes it all so worth it!_

_Thanks for reading, Bex_

_x x x x x x x x x _


	25. Chapter 25: Irreversible

**-Chapter Twenty Five: Irreversible -**

*****

**-Jasper-**

Desire, above all else in humans, rules. Even above love and self sacrifice, which they like to pretend are instinctive, desire is the ruling element of human emotion. They desire to live, to live well and to live with the one they love. Desire drives them to break apart lives in search of imaginary perfection.

And this governing passion was not only limited to humans. I was ruled by it, we were all ruled by it deep down, though through our immortality we could aspire to greater heights of morality. Desire controlled me always, to some extent.

Desire controlled us all.

Were I human, my hands would have been shaking. I would have been freezing cold, shivering and sweating. I would have been sick; screaming at the people that I loved because my body was craving something so badly that it made me unrecognisable.

As it was, I wasn't human; therefore I was able to control all of this and exhibit nothing that would indicate my internal struggle.

The huger, thirst…whatever it could be called; bloodlust seemed the most accurate, it was calling out to me. Wrenching through my body in such an uncomfortable way that it took all my self control just to stand still.

I looked, in search of a distraction, towards Rosalie and Alice who were sitting on the sofa together, speaking in low tones. I knew what they were saying, if only because of the way their emotions were shaped.

Bella Swan was clearly the topic of that conversation.

I stayed away from it, not wanting to be drawn into yet another endless debate about the girl who - with her overwhelmingly alluring blood - had sent shockwaves through our family, the effects of which we were still feeling.

Though I was attempting neutrality while this mess was sorted out, I knew very firmly where I stood. Rosalie and I (and Emmett by obligation) were staunchly in favour of killing the girl.

I knew why Edward had kept his distance from me in the last few days. A number of reasons I imagined, but none of them more prevalent than his obvious desire for me not to detect the nature of his feelings about the girl.

Which was ridiculous, because they couldn't have been more obvious.

And again I felt a swell of sympathy for Rosalie. Over forty years I had witnessed and assisted them in going about their various acts of desperate treachery. At first I had been reluctant; Emmett was my brother, I'd never met someone so genuinely kind as he was and it hurt me to assist in such a betrayal. I'd still helped them of course, and in return eighty two humans had lost their lives to me over the course of these years. All of them filth. The very worst kind of criminal. I made sure to tell Rosalie this occasionally because she would smile and tell me with her eyes that if _those_ were the kinds of people I was killing, then I was doing the world a service. And I liked it when she said that. Rosalie had a way of making guilt vanish as if it were nothing but a bad dream. I could understand, in many ways, what drew Edward to her and what kept him there through all the insanity.

I had not fed from a human in eleven months now and I was feeling the full weight of it. My body _longed_ for the warm, sweet oblivion that human blood would generate. I was imagining it all the time, dreaming about when I could next arrange it so that I could do the world another 'service' and service my own needs neatly in the process. Though it wasn't neat at all…in fact, it was decidedly messy. Not the best way for a human to die and I did nothing to speed up his journey along the way.

I suppressed a shudder just thinking about it. My fingertips were itching to tear through unworthy flesh, my lips were dry and parched imagining the blood I could drown myself in. My throat was volcanically hot; scorching and aching. How unfortunate that I couldn't control my own feelings, even if I could hide them very well.

Rosalie was angry, but only externally. Strange. I didn't think I would ever understand the machinations of what occurred and maintained between Rosalie and Edward. So complex and unpredictable were their emotions and actions that I had resigned myself to never comprehending it and never knowing the nature of it…although I fully believed in it's authenticity. Forty years had taught me much, and I knew with concrete certainty that what lay between them was completely real. It existed, it controlled them and it was merciless. It didn't care about Emmett or our family or even their own feelings sometimes. In that respect, I admired them. They _were_ able to hold it off for long periods of time - at great cost to themselves and their happiness. I wasn't sure if I would be able to resist something that demanded indulgence every moment they were near or even far from one another.

In fact, feeling another wave of unstoppable desire pounding over me, I was certain that I couldn't. Self control was something I had mastered to a specific extent, but it could go no further than that. I _had _to feed sometime in the next month. It was as simple as that.

I watched Rosalie's mock anger - concealing something much worse, much darker - and I watched as Alice tried to make her understand what a lovely person Bella Swan was. How kind and generous, sweet and fragile she was. I refrained from snorting with laughter. There wasn't a single person on the planet who could ever convince Rosalie Hale that Bella Swan was worth anything, including her own time and energy.

Rosalie shrugged elegantly, sweeping her hair back. Alice had said something about Edward and it had upset her. I knew this by the taste of her emotions. She had a very specific 'flavour' of sorts, when it came to Edward. I imagined it to be a taste in her mouth, or a colour floating before her eyes. To me it resonated like a essence or texture, not only in my mind but in my senses. Either way, it was easily distinguishable from her other emotions. The conversation would end soon; Rosalie's eyes would become shuttered and closed and Alice would give up, saving it for another time when Rosalie was more receptive to her attempts.

As she stood up from the sofa, Alice took her hand and said something so quietly that I wondered if Rosalie had even heard it. But judging from the way her lips tightened and her emotions spiked I knew it had been something personal and something about Edward. That familiar taste; I knew it well.

"If you think that, then you don't know him," Rosalie replied, detaching herself from Alice and leaving the room.

Alice sighed and put her legs up on the sofa so she was lying flat out on it. I wished I could draw, so I could forever capture her looking like that in charcoal shades. She was so beautiful…so captivating.

"Don't stand there in the shadows, Jazz," she sighed.

I smiled, wondering how long she'd know I had been standing behind the door, looking through the cracks like a curious child after bedtime. "Hey," I said softly, touching her hair lightly as I passed, to sit at her feet on the end of the sofa. "Y'know, it's a shame you can't draw yourself." Alice was very good at drawing, talented in all areas of art, in fact. I was a little more withdrawn from artistic expression than the others. Emmett and I were more content to witness the beauty that our partners created, rather than create our own. And Edward, well Edward played the piano for his own reasons, each one of them confusing and heartbreaking at the same time.

She shrugged and opened her eyes. "Did Emmett find you yet?"

"Hmmm?"

"Emmett. He's looking for you, I think. Or will be. I'm not sure because he's not sure. He might not go through with it, actually. Oh no wait…he's definitely going to. Later. He'll talk to you later."

"About?"

She frowned a little. "I'm not sure. His mind is a bit of a mess right now. Something about Rosalie, I think, but I don't want to pry. He'll be looking for you in about an hour. Be nice."

"Of course."

"Have you spoken to Edward?" she asked, sitting upright and pulling me down onto the Italian silk sofa with her.

"About?"

"Anything. He's being very closed off lately. I just wondered if you'd talked."

"Not about anything more substantial than hunting and school."

"School?"

"He asked me to stay away from Bella, that's all."

She nodded, her eyes clouded over with concern. "It's all so screwed up."

"I know." I didn't try to reassure her, she didn't like that and it was useless anyway. Alice saw the catastrophe's before any of us. "Any change?"

"No," she said with frustration. "He's determined to stick to his stupid plan. Staying well away from her, ignoring her. He's just being obstinate now - pain for pain's sake."

"He does have masochistic leanings," I pointed out.

"This is different. He's keeping something at bay for reasons that I don't understand. I genuinely don't think he would kill her now, unless she opens up a vein in front of him or something, and he knows he's not strong enough to leave her. So why do this?"

I knew why he was doing it. I knew the reasoning behind Edward's decision to stay away from that girl.

Rosalie.

Upon returning from their little '_trip' _together, Edward's determination that he shouldn't be a part of Bella's life had turned to absolute stone. There was no room for debate on the subject; he was adamant about it.

And the connection between them was strengthened to an extent I hadn't sensed in years. He was still slightly dizzy with it, as was she. But more than that…he was grateful. Grateful for something other than the blissful intimacy which I could sense all around them; the afterglow of their lovemaking. No, he was grateful to her for something more significant - more central, almost as if she had saved him from something. And so this gratitude wasted no time in becoming debt.

He couldn't do it to Rosalie, even though it was selfish and unreasonable for her to even consider it…he couldn't do it to her. So he was keeping his distance.

This I completely understood, if nothing else about their mercurial and potentially destructive relationship. Rosalie was all Edward knew about love. In that world, she was his Goddess - his ruler, his lover…himself, to a certain extent. I would watch them sometimes; outwardly, their exterior coldness was flawless but because of my perception, I could feel what they felt when they said such carelessly cutting things to one another. It was oddly perverse to witness them do this; like scribbling ugly words on something beautiful…I didn't know how they could bear it. They were so wrapped up in each other; so completely and hopelessly intertwined that I didn't see how they would ever be able to detach themselves and live separately.

But they did it. Every single day I watched them do it and I marvelled at their self control, knowing full well that if I felt such compulsion, I wouldn't even try to refrain. Not when it was so…helplessly present and within reach every moment of their lives. No wonder Rosalie and Emmett sometimes lived away from the rest of us.

And to some degree, I didn't understand _why_ they bothered trying to fight it. The power and command of what was between them was tireless; it reigned over them every moment of their existence, only with great exertion were they able to distract themselves enough to feel something different. Sometimes I wondered, while trying not think about what I had to endure as I sat in the same room as them, why they didn't just give in and admit it. As much as Rosalie loved Emmett - and it was pretty damned substantial for her to live through what she did and try to protect him - I knew it just did not compare to what was between her and Edward. What they felt for one another…what they were compelled to feel…what they had maybe _always _felt…it was unlike anything I had ever known.

They were both stronger than me. Stronger than anyone suspected, I imagined.

I chuckled to myself, thinking how lucky I was that I had to bear witness to such dramatic, Shakespearian affairs. I wasn't a big fan of drama, or any theatrics for that matter, yet I had front row seats to the greatest tragic love affair of all time.

"What's funny?" Alice asked me, curiously.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting she was there. Such were the extreme circumstances - able to make me forget Alice, albeit only momentarily.

"The situation," I said, knowing better than to try and say '_nothing'_. "Everything."

Alice smiled. "I never thought I'd see Rosalie jealous over anyone."

"You think she's jealous?" I queried with careful interest. "Jealous of Bella?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's obvious, don't you think? I mean sure, she's protective of her family and no-one who knew her would deny that."

"But?"

"But she's known Edward for so long, they were alone together at first. Before Emmett, it was just the four of them. Sometimes I think they're closer than they pretend to be."

There was no cunning in her choice of words; simple observation. Yet it threw me a little. I had underestimated Alice's perception, yet again.

I pretended to look doubtful. "Really?"

"It's little things," she said, playing with a strand of cotton she had found on the sofa and twining it through her fingers. "The constant bickering, the indifference, the formality. Mostly it makes sense, but sometimes it makes a little too much sense. Like they're keeping up appearances or something."

"You can't seriously believe that."

She looked at me, her golden eyes suddenly so piercing. "You tell me, you're the one who can sense emotions."

I knew she didn't really have any conviction in her mild accusations so I knew I wouldn't be caught in the lie, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to have to lie outright to the person I loved most in the world.

"Then let me tell you, it's all pretty much genuine."

She shrugged, letting my gaze drop. "Maybe it wasn't always like it, though."

God, would she never desist with this? Too damned observant for her own good.

"Oh come on, Al. I highly doubt it."

The piercing gaze was back again. "Rosalie isn't really like that, you know. She's _not_ vain, really. She's _not _shallow or self involved. Arrogant, yes. Proud, yes. But her other so called 'vices' barely even exist. Don't you think it's strange how all the reasons Edward has to dislike her, revolve around such flaws that I have come to realise are mostly fabricated?"

"Meaning?"

She looked a little frustrated now that I wasn't following her entirely accurate thread of conclusions. "_Meaning_ that I think they pretend not to like each other, because they're hiding something that happened a long time ago."

"Very cloak and dagger, even for you."

"Maybe. But there is definitely more to all this than Rosalie being concerned about her family's wellbeing."

I smiled and shook my head. "Far be it from me to deny you any means of entertainment, my love." I kissed her hand and she rolled her eyes.

"That means you don't believe me, but don't want to verbally disagree."

"I think, regardless of how accurate you might or might not be, it's not our business. Whatever happened years ago before she was with Emmett, before we even knew anything about them…it's not for us to go delving into."

"Always the moral guardian," she sighed, as if I were a strict parent spoiling her fun.

I couldn't help myself. "Hardly," I grimaced.

"Don't be silly, Jazz," she said, running the back of her hand gently down my face. "You haven't killed a single human in over forty years now. That's all behind you, the same as it is for Emmett or Edward."

I closed my eyes, trying to lose myself in the pleasure of her touch and not think about what she had just said. "Mmm-hmmm."

She kissed me on the lips; not something Alice did very often when we weren't hidden away in our room or, occasionally, part of the house. We were a deeply private, much more subtle 'couple' than Rosalie and Emmett. But then that wasn't difficult to achieve. Apart from being very tactile around everyone else, they were also extremely expressive. I had heard, without meaning or wanting to, exceedingly vocal expressions of their love. Everyone had heard them, at some time or another and while it was little more than a mildly embarrassing joke to us, I didn't have to imagine how excruciating it must have been for Edward to endure.

Yet he sat through it, rolled his eyes and shook his head, grinning exasperatedly along with all of us and later on he would make the same jokes we did, teasing them playfully for their flagrance.

Alice wasn't like that and nor was I, but when we were alone things were different. She curled her slim fingers around my neck, pulling me a little closer. I smiled against her lips, savouring the rarity of such a moment. Ordinarily, this would never occur in such a public area, but I could feel by the shape and temperature of her thoughts that her reasons behind this had been prompted by the recent occurrences in our family.

"Mmmm," I hummed, planting smaller, briefer kisses on the corner of her mouth, her cheeks, her jawbone.

"Show me," she whispered, so low I wouldn't have caught it were it not for the vibrations against my lips.

I paused, lifting my eyes to hers. If kissing in a place where someone could walk in was rare, then what she was asking me to do was almost a non-occurrence. Another side effect of the turbulence our group was currently enduring, I guessed.

"Really?"

She nodded, smiled and recapturing my lips with hers.

Very gently, I allowed my gift to do exactly what it always wanted to do when I could be this close to her. It opened up and shared exactly what I was feeling, letting Alice experience everything that she made me feel. Normally, Alice liked to be in complete control of her own feelings and had an unspoken rule about my gift never touching her. There were very infrequent exceptions to this rule; today was one of them.

She gasped a little, a shuddering tremble sent down her spine. I caught her bottom lip with my teeth and fought to control myself; we _were,_ after all, kissing and now embracing in the middle of a commonly utilized living room.

"Jazz," she murmured. "Jazz."

I thought for one blissful moment that she was saying my name in the throes of rapture. Reality was hard on my heels though, and the loss of contact awoke me sharply.

"Sorry," she said, kissing me in a _we'll-continue-this-later_ sort of way. "Emmett changed his mind. He's coming now."

I shrugged, managing to reign myself in reasonably well. considering. If only I could control myself with equal proficiency in _other_ areas.

"Alright," I said, kissing her hand before I stood up. "Yes, I know. Be nice."

She caught my eyes and told me, in that special way of ours, that she loved me. I told her silently in return that she could never love me half as much as I adored her.

I decided to meet Emmett halfway, rather than letting him find me with Alice; I could sense he was coming from upstairs, to I waited at the banister for him.

Before he even reached the top step, I knew something was wrong.

Emmett was the one person in our family, including Esme and Carlisle, who never succumbed to fits of depression, sadness or dejection. The others all experienced their own measures of such despondency from time to time and whether they told anyone or not, I obviously knew about it. I didn't even think of it as strange anymore. It was just a part of who I was; no different than acquiring immortal strength and bloodlust. Just something else to adjust to.

But any amount of darkness or sadness from Emmett? Unprecedented. He was eternally optimistic, such optimism perpetuated by his Rosalie.

So when I felt, for maybe the first time ever, such concern and unhappiness radiating from him, I immediately climbed the stairs to meet him.

Without preamble I said "What's wrong?"

He looked so strange; shaken up, fraught with some unnamed worry. His eyes were darker than I had ever seen them. He shook his head wordlessly, indicating to the front door downstairs.

"OK," I said, and we headed outside, leaving the house and everyone else behind. In the cool night air, surrounded by darkness and silence, I turned back to him. "What's wrong?" I asked again.

He had his hand over his mouth and I didn't think I'd ever been so afraid for him in all the time I had known him. I sent out waves of calm and he relaxed a little. I continued to do so until he nodded, took a deep breath and spoke.

"You'd tell me, right?"

I glanced around, wondering for one very stupid moment if he was actually talking to me. I had a vague idea now of what the underlying cause of his distress was.

"Tell you what, Em?"

He shot me a look. "Don't patronise me."

I crossed my arms, desperately wondering what the hell had happened to cause this. "Alright. But you're still going to have let me in on whatever it is."

"If anything was….wrong, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

His voice was tight, as if his throat was constricted. "Of course," I lied flawlessly. I _hated_ lying to him, almost as much as I despised myself for lying to Alice. "Care to fill me in on the latest atrocity?"

He shook his head, seeming to doubt himself. "I…I can't explain it."

This was bad. "Try," I pressed on firmly. I came closer to him, irrationally terrified that someone else would hear us. "Come on. Tell me. Maybe I can help."

"No. I don't think I'm even…it's nothing…God, I don't know. I think I'm losing my mind or something."

Tentatively, I put my hand on his shoulder and he closed his eyes upon contact. "You? You're the only around here who's remotely normal. Come on, man - you can't let me down. You're the only person who doesn't give me a headache."

He cracked an unwilling smile and I pressed on, trying to keep him focused on smiling instead of following his heart to more logical conclusions. Why was everyone so perceptive lately?

"If you go over to the dark side, I'll be on my own in the land of the sane. What's this about, huh? Feeling left out of all the drama?"

He opened his eyes and smiled again; most of the tension was leaving him, but still something cold and unwanted plagued his feelings. He couldn't shake it off.

"Jasper," he said. "Just tell me, please don't lie to me, OK?"

"Fine, but tell you what?"

He took a shaky breath and used the exhalation to get it out of him. "Rosalie. It's Rosalie."

I couldn't recall the last time he had used her full name; another bad sign.

"Right, what about her?"

He held my stare now, watching me with uncanny intensity. Checking to see if I was lying, perhaps. "I think there's something….wrong."

"With Rosalie? Like she's…lost it or something?"

His eyes narrowed. "No. Not like that."

I sighed, pretending very plausibly to be frustrated. "Oh come on! Spit it out!"

"Rosalie and Edward," he said quietly, watching me the whole time. "If there was something…happening, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

I had never wanted to feed from a human so much in my entire existence. The stress of keeping myself completely calm was such a physical drain on me that I must have turned transparent with the effort. "Oh Christ, Emmett!" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes. "That's it? What the hell? I thought it was something serious. Good God, where have you been? Of course there's something happening! They hate one another, they're probably going to coordinate some sort of vampire Battle Royale!"

His expression didn't alter, but his feelings were a little lighter. "I know about that. I mean something…else."

I couldn't feign ignorance any longer; he knew somewhat the extent of my sensory perception. "You think they're…what? Involved?"

He winced a little, just hearing it. "No," he said slowly. "But…there's something between them lately and it doesn't feel like hatred. And there's…other things too."

I shook my head, as if the very idea was offensive to me. "Like?"

"Like the fact that you and Alice both covered for them when they went to the ocean," he said with a hard edge.

I hadn't been prepared for that, nor for the resentment in it. "So? You wanted them to scream and fight in front of Esme?"

"Why did you try and hide it?"

"Because you would have gotten involved and it was better if they worked it out themselves."

"Worked what out?"

"This ridiculous '_Bella' _issue, of course."

"And that's why they came back like they did? He was all over her, I could smell it."

"Well that's what happens when they fight. They can be vicious, you should know that."

"I know, but it's something….she said something today and now I can't shake this feeling like I haven't really been paying enough attention to something and…" he trailed off, his face crumbling and shoulders dropping. He grabbed at his hair, the frustration clearly eating away at him. "And I feel so guilty for even thinking it but I can't shake it, no matter what I do!"

There was massive doubt in his theory; this was good, it made the whole thing easer. His desperation to be proven wrong was what would provide me with the key to undoing his conjecture.

"Alright, calm down," I implored. "Tell me what she said."

He hissed at himself, his eyes so abnormally hollow and dark. "I'm a terrible person, a terrible husband. Jesus, look at me! Pathetic!"

"Hardly," I said straight away. "Look, I can tell you that I've never sensed anything between them other than indifference, annoyance and occasionally dislike. Wouldn't I be able to sense it if they were…doing something like that?"

He nodded minutely, and I knew this battle was almost done. He would be quick to accept my completely false reassurances now. I understood; Rosalie was his life. Simple as that.

"And you're not lying?"

"No."

His acknowledgment of my lie had an instantaneous effect on his whole emotional system. Everything relaxed - the tension he was holding unfurled. His relief was nothing compared to mine.

"OK," he said, shakily. "OK. I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to put you in such a weird situation. I just…God, y'know it's so messed up right now and everyone's so tense. Sorry."

I had to force myself to smile and accept his apology. "No problem."

Without warning, he yanked me into a very strong hug, letting me go after a second or so. He playfully jabbed my jaw with his right knuckle; something that would have broken the jawbone of a human.

Before we went back into the house, I had to ask.

"Hey, just out of interest; what did Rosalie say that made you think…y'know?"

He paused, conflicted about whether or not he should tell me now. But he trusted me; he trusted us all.

"It wasn't anything she said, actually," he explained quietly. "It was her face. She was sitting with her back to me, facing away. She thought I couldn't see her, but I could…there was a little mirror on the right. We were talking, I said something to her. Told her….how much I loved her, how she made me feel." He paused, the memory of whatever had shaken him was still fresh in his mind. "Her face…it looked like she was about to cry, but when she spoke her voice was completely different. It was totally normal."

"And that was enough to make you think they were having an affair?"

He shrugged. "I guess. When I put it with some other stuff, it seemed to make a sick kind of sense. They knew each other before me, they're so….cold. Sometimes it's like it doesn't fit. But you're right. I was just feeling left out of the crazy group."

He smiled at me; that same, bright smile that I had never been so happy to see in all the time I had known him and come to regard him as my brother.

"Well trust me," I said with a grin. "You're not missing out on anything. The world needs _some_ sane vampires as well as insane ones."

And that statement, when applied to our current household, could not have been any more accurate.

* * *

Two days later, we were back in the cafeteria once more. All together, all laughing and speaking. Separate from the other children, as always but not for the solitary, antisocial reasons they supposed. For their own safety, of course. If one more young child walked past me too close, I was going to seriously lose all control that I had managed to scrape together in these last few days.

Beside me, Alice nudged me gently. I rolled my eyes and continued the conversation with Emmett, who had been very friendly with me since the disturbingly close call two nights ago. I knew he felt guilty about involving me, about questioning my very questionable loyalty. Emmett was the kind of person who would feel guilty about that for years; it would bother him that he hadn't trusted his family or Rosalie enough to see past his wild, albeit very accurate, suspicions.

Bella Swan sat a few tables away from us, glancing over at Edward every now and then, fleetingly. He was ignoring her as best he could, while he spoke to Alice and - oddly enough - Rosalie.

This was another thing that had come about in the past two days. As if by some strange coincidence, Rosalie and Edward seemed to have formed an amiable, if very formal, truce about the '_Bella' _issue. They actually spoke to one another now; sometimes they even laughed. I knew, without even having to consult my gift, that this was because Edward had sensed the others' suspicions. Now he and Rosalie were acting like completely normal siblings, though they still teased and mocked one another. The temperature of their relationship had warmed ever so slightly. Though there was still blatant disapproval and distance between them; it was more genial.

I wasn't convinced of the wisdom of such a plan, but it seemed to be working. Alice and Emmett had no more feelings of suspicion or scepticism concerning the relationship between them. For now, it seemed, they had managed to quell the rising uncertainties circulating around their cold, vicious attitude towards one another.

"We'd be bankrupt if it weren't for Alice," Edward said, picking apart a croissant, only to let the pieces drop back down on his otherwise empty plate. I didn't even bother trying to make it seem like I was eating. I was rarely concerned myself with such charades; not when the others did a good enough job for me. I hated the smell of their food on my fingers. It made me feel slightly ill. "Without her, you'd be content to spend all our money on clothes!"

Rosalie snorted and tossed her hair. "Armani do not make _clothes_!" she said. "They make stunning pieces of art that you can wear, in exchange for substantial amounts of money."

Edward flicked a small piece of buttery croissant at her white _Gilles Rosier _blazer, which bounced off harmlessly. She glared at him.

"Humans have died for less."

"Good thing I left that title eighty seven years in the past, then."

"Along with your fashion and style sense."

"Hey babe," Emmett cut in, sensing my distance from our current conversation and that the attention was diverted elsewhere, towards the other three. "What's going on? Do I need to defend your honour?"

"Edward is saying I spend too much money on clothes," Rosalie told her husband.

"Ah, well I have to agree with him there. Personally, I think you'd look much better if you just went without clothes completely," Emmett said mischievously. Rosalie pretended to look outraged and smacked his shoulder.

Everyone laughed, including myself. There was a natural easiness in this playful bantering that I had never seen when we were all in a group. Anytime Edward and Rosalie bantered, there was always some underlying truth to the dulled edges of their insults. This wasn't the same; a glimpse of how they would be together if things were different, perhaps.

The girl was looking over again; confused longing was her main stream of thought. How strange, to understand someone better than Edward did. Even stranger for it to be the person we were all trying to pretend didn't exist - Edward especially.

Of course, Edward read my mind a second later and knew exactly what she felt. I sensed him trying to ignore it, try to keep his mind on his family.

I still hadn't had a chance to speak with them after two nights ago and it was starting to irritate me now. Though he knew exactly what I thought about the situation, it wasn't the same as being able to have a conversation with him about it. It wasn't as though anyone outside the 'circle' could detect anything was wrong. Until two nights ago, no-one had even considered the possibility that anything untoward was occurring between the two siblings. Rosalie and Edward, for all their shortcomings and flaws, were nothing if not brilliant liars.

Rosalie was probably the best when it came to deception. Though I was proficient, and Edward was masterful - we were nothing compared to her sheer level of aptitude. She could tell a lie so well that even I struggled to distinguish it from truth. I supposed she had the most to lose from the truth coming out, so she had become the best liar. Maybe she was just naturally talented though - something from her past perhaps. Something she had been forced to learn.

I returned to the scene we were effortlessly creating. Happy, normal siblings having lunch together. We must have looked beautiful, smiling and laughing. I noticed some people staring without meaning to, their jealousy rising steadily until they forced themselves to look away.

"Are we hunting tonight?" I asked when the laughter died down. Edward glanced at me and then at Alice. Rosalie pulled apart an apple, making it look like she had bitten into it while Emmett looked at me with brotherly concern.

"Should we?" he asked.

I nodded tersely, trying not to think about how much I wanted to rip into the throat of a young boy sitting a dangerous ten feet from us. His skin, his blood…it was intoxicating. Completely random; the boy was somewhat geeky, glasses falling off the end of his nose as he tried to get lost in his own personal copy of Stephen King's '_It_'.

"No problem," Alice said, running her hand up and down my back gently. "We can all go if you want."

I sighed through gritted teeth at her kindness. Edward spoke for me, voicing my irritation with much more etiquette than my raw mind had managed.

"I don't think he needs all of us to go," he pointed out. "Just one or two of us."

Emmett nodded understandingly. "Me and Edward, then."

Alice and Rosalie looked deeply annoyed. "Why?" they both asked in unison.

Emmett flustered for a moment, not having thought through the repercussions of his assumption. "Well, eh…because it's…y'know. Safer?"

"Pardon?" his wife asked coldly. "Just what exactly are you implying?"

He gulped. "Uhh…nothing?" he tried.

"I think he's trying to say," Alice put in. "That we _'little girls' _should stay behind and make blueberry pies."

I couldn't help but smile now. It was funny to see Emmett trying to wade through the diplomatic minefield of feminism.

"No!" he denied. "Just that…well babe, come on. You know I'm the strongest. And Edward can read his mind. We're really the best ones for making sure nothing bad happens."

"Oh really? What about someone who can see the future?" Rosalie snapped. "What about that? How does all your manly strength compare to that?"

Emmett decided to give up while he still could. "Doesn't," he conceded sulkily.

"Exactly. So Alice and Edward should go. Your amazing strength can be more usefully utilized at home with me."

He looked hopeful for a moment. Edward bit down a laugh. "Yeah?"

"Yes. You can help me break through the wall of the next room in preparation for the new wardrobe."

Everyone laughed again, while Emmett shrugged and resigned himself to his fate. Again, the pleasant normalcy of such interactions was strange. I could feel myself being drawn into it, almost forgetting that it was all part of Edward and Rosalie's determination to be _normal_ siblings.

"Is that OK with you then?" Alice asked me. I smiled and nodded, as the bell rang. We didn't rise immediately, letting most of the other students leave the hall before us. I didn't particularly want to stand surrounded by students crowding to get out of two narrow double doors.

The girl walked out as well; I felt Edward stiffen slightly, trying to pretend that he hadn't noticed. Rosalie tried to maintain that she hadn't noticed him do this and that she didn't care anyway. The knock on effect of something so simple was startling.

They could pretend to be normal all they wanted, but it was futile. Soon enough this situation was going to come to a head and when it did, I could only shudder to think of the consequences.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

The mythology of our existence, I knew, was shrouded in bloodshed and evil. Vampires - as I so rarely thought of my kin - were renowned to be vicious, bloodthirsty creatures, sleeping in darkness, dreaming of gore and violence. No-one ever thinks of the moments in between. No-one considers granting personalities to such a variety of evil. Who imagines such creatures watching TV or playing chess? Shopping for clothes or washing their hair?

I came to the conclusion years ago that it must be easier for humanity to dismiss our existence completely, though there were steady streams of reliable sightings and evidence throughout history. A strategy that would only be aided by the idea that we were mindless killing machines.

Surely, I pondered to myself as I removed my clothes later that night, it would be easier to label us as imagination, because a rational part of them knows that no thing on their planet is all evil. Some part of them knows that everything has a balance. Because they cannot imagine us as creatures capable of blending into society; beings who have other wishes and desires besides blood and death…they _know _that we do not exist. We are unbalanced, extreme figments of their imagination. Nothing more.

The human mind was a strange thing indeed. The power of denial in the face of obvious truths…a peculiar method of self preservation.

A pair of strong, warm hands reached around my waist and his chest pressed into my back, his chin resting on my shoulder. I smiled and put my hands on his, letting my eyes close and some of the tension melt away from my muscles.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice low and rough; how it was when we were alone.

"Hey."

My beautiful Emmett; my husband, my lover, my true love. I could have written endless music, incessant poetry, infinite literature about how much I loved him. Such wonderful, tangible love; strong walls and touchable warmth, visible devotion and obvious adoration. The skin of my being; everything on the outside.

The inside, of course, belonged to someone else, though I tried not to think about that.

"Did you really want me to help you knock through the wall?"

I laughed. "No. But I think we could manage to do it anyway."

His chuckle vibrated through my back, across my ribcage where it resonated in my heart. He nuzzled my neck, arms tightening around me.

"I love you," he muttered as his face pressed into the skin of my neck. "I love you so much."

"I love you," I replied, letting my head fall back a little. "More than you'll ever know."

He paused, mid kiss and very slowly withdrew. Concerned by the loss of contact, I turned to face him, wearing nothing but underwear and my hair, reaching down to the small of my back. "What?"

He looked down, away from me. I put my hand under his chin and made him look. Shame and guilt clouded his warm, deep eyes, colouring them faded topaz instead of their normal gold. My heart wrenched painfully and I wondered what he was going to say. I knew, via Edward, of his suspicions and consequently his shame for even entertaining such thoughts. Another reason to hate myself, I supposed.

"I want…" he started, but seemed to lose confidence.

Decidedly, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and stood there with him, looking into the eyes I loved and knew so well. "You can have whatever you want, baby. You know that."

He shook his head, trying to avoid my gaze again but I didn't let him. Instead I moved my face and caught his mouth with my own. For a moment, nothing happened. I thought he wasn't going to react. Then his arms came up, enclosing me in the small space between us.

When we could be like this, even though something was wrong and we were postponing talking about it by kissing, it was so perfect. We were perfect…no-one in the world compared to Emmett, not when he was spinning me in his arms on the spot, lifting me up effortlessly and twirling me in a loving haze.

_Of course,_ that unstoppable voice in my head reminded me. _There's someone else who actually _is_ the whole world. _

But I tried to shut that out, because Emmett was in pain. He needed me and I was all too ready to give him whatever was necessary to make it stop.

"Darling," I said, breaking away from his warm, compelling kisses. "Tell me. Come on, tell me."

Unwillingly, he stopped. "I think," he said slowly. "We should talk."

I managed not to overreact at that, though it twisted my heart. "Alright."

He took my hands in his, holding them tight. "I want you to tell me everything about the night you died."

I blinked in shock. Certainly not what I had been expecting. "What? Why?"

"Because," he said, with a new rush of determination. "I never let you talk to me about it. I'm ready now. I can take it now."

I saw my face reflected in his eyes; pity, confusion, sorrow, hesitation and absolute, unreserved love.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want there to be anything about you that I don't know. Anything that I'm not a part of. Even though it's bad and….horrible, I still want to know. Please, Rose. If you can…I want to know. I don't want there to be a part of your life that I'm not involved in."

And it made a strange kind of sense, though I didn't let myself fully delve into just how much sense it really made. I put my hand to his face.

"You don't have to do this," I tried. "Honestly, it's not even relevant anymore."

But he was unwavering in his purpose. "It is to me, when it's something I've been avoiding. Anything that puts space between us is bad. I want it gone. Please, baby. Tell me."

It should have been difficult to dredge up. It ought to have been arduous and demanding to recall those details of such a cataclysmic event that broke apart the fabric of that previous, other life. Yet it was effortless. I had spoken about it with Carlisle many times when I had first been changed, and endless times with Edward in the last fifty years.

No, the challenge would be talking to Emmett about it. Carlisle was…well, Carlisle. He understood, so fully. He'd made it seem like he needed to hear it, when he knew really what I needed was to say it. Air on the wound, or something akin to that, And Edward had made me talk about it until it didn't hurt anymore - until it started to sound like a story that happened to another person, not me. Then he would kiss away any residual pain and replace it with something else.

Emmett was a whole separate part of my life; though I had never really given it much thought, I knew I had always been secretly relieved he didn't want to talk about it. Allowing him to be touched and tainted by that wasn't something I was eager to do.

But it had to happen now, so I would just have to deal with it.

We sat on the floor of our room, no bed obviously. Facing opposite one another on the plush, cream rug, I began to speak in calm, almost detached tones.

He listened as I built up to the more nasty aspects of it, telling him about my parents and their aspirations. My friend, Vera - her baby. Odd, to be recounting such things that should be long lost, but were uncomfortably fresh.

By the time I was walking home alone, I slowed down the speech and considered whether or not to leave out some details. Maybe I should, it would have been kinder to do so. But something in his eyes told me that he needed to hear everything. I wished I didn't understand _why_.

And I found reluctance creeping into my recollection. Parts of this I didn't want to share with my husband. Carlisle, fine. Edward…of course. He hadn't rested until I had told him the thing over and over - until I was almost bored with it.

But my beautiful, lovely Emmett…he didn't have to be contaminated with this, did he?

He sensed my reluctance. "Rose," he prompted. "Please. Don't leave anything out."

I knew how painful this must have been for him; I could almost feel it pouring out of him, a red hot kind of distress and ill ease.

So I carried on, reciting most of it from conversations with Carlisle. The deeper into it I got, the more I found the calm leaving my voice. By the time the words "…left me for dead…" were past my lips, my hands were shaking.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. "OK," he said in one shaky breath when I was done. "OK."

I wanted to touch him, bring him back to me and make it like it was before. But I knew the irreversible nature of something like this, and I knew I couldn't expect immediate ease and constancy…not with something like this.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, meaning it in every possible way.

He laughed a little at that, incredulously. "_You're_ apologising?"

"Yes, because I know how hard it is for you to hear that."

"I thought we sorted this out a few years ago," he said, with an echo of his old smile. "No apologising."

I waited a little while, letting it sink in. I knew it was a lot for him to deal with, fully hearing what he only had a vague idea about up until now.

When he moved, taking a deep breath and exhaling, I knew I could go to him. It was all I wanted to do just then - make him feel better. I took him in my arms and held him close to me; we clung to one another, letting the horror fade away from both of us.

"I love you," I told him. "I love you."

He nodded and kissed my cheek. "And I love you, Rose. So much."

We drew apart and kissed to seal all and any space between us. I held his face in my hands while we kissed, our bodies pressed together with the comfort born of intimacy.

"Rose?" he said, pulling away slightly.

"Hmmm?"

"There's nothing between us now, right? I mean…nothing standing between you and me. No distance, no secrets. Right?"

I kept my gaze steady and maintained the proximity.

And when I promised him that, it wasn't a lie exactly. Because there was nothing between us. We were as close as we could be, ever.

Yet, ever present, clinical and unwavering - the truth spoke in the back of my mind, coldly reminding me of things that I didn't want to know.

* * *

**_-August 9th__ 1940-_**

_I closed my eyes tight shut, clamped my hands over my ears and imagined that this was death. That I would be sightless, soundless and mute…but that I would exist amidst the darkness nonetheless. I would have no form, there would be no sunlight - yet I would exist. Me, what I was…who I was, all that I loved and hated and knew would not perish and cease. I would continue through the darkness and onto some other life. _

_I imagined all that, while I shut out every other thing around me. It didn't work. I could imagine some form of life after death…some vague proof of the soul but nothing I could have imagined could full take my attention from what stood before me. _

_Edward took my hands by the wrists and pulled them away so I could hear what he was saying once more. I kept my eyes tight shut, but what was the point? I could see him printed against my eyelids anyway. Burned there with the intensity of my stare, perhaps. _

"_Don't be so puerile!" he snarled ruthlessly. "Look at me when you say what you're about to say!"_

_I opened my eyes and he was still there, dispelling any and all belief that God or any creature able to grant mercy upon me might exist. Edward Cullen. _

"_This has to stop!" I said with more conviction that I actually felt. "Do you understand? I don't want it anymore! It's over! There. Better because I was looking at you, was it?"_

_He sneered at me, though his confidence was shaken by the strength of my words and their meaning. "So you lied to my face; hardly a new addition to your talents!"_

"_I'm not lying! This ends _now!"

_He was still holding my wrists tightly in his hands. "No!"_

"_Yes! I won't allow this to continue another moment longer! We're done, Edward. This was the last time, I swear to God!"_

"_You don't believe in God!" _

"_I don't believe in you! Us! This! Don't presume to tell me my own beliefs just because you can hear the echo of my thoughts! You don't know what I feel!"_

"_I know you, I know every piece of you!"_

"_Not any more!"_

"_Why? Why, Rose? Because of him? There is no way he'll find out! I would know!"_

"_I know he doesn't know, Jesus Christ do you think I would have come here with if I thought he had the slightest inkling?"_

"_Then why did you come at all?"_

_I yanked my wrists from his iron grasp and stepped back, my bare feet on the grass of the woodland area. We were supposed to be in Rochester, while I went through whatever cathartic exercises that everyone presumed I underwent. Eight years ago this night I had lost my mortality, my innocence and my life. This night meant Edward and I could be alone together, as involved as we wanted to be…which was a lot, but this time I hadn't been able to stop thinking about what Emmett had said to me as I left. _

… "Make sure you come back to me, Rose."….

_The guilt I so rarely entertained was plaguing me fully. I couldn't breathe with it, I couldn't focus on anything else. I'd never thought there would be something more powerful than the pull of what Edward and I shared…but there was and it was devouring me whole. _

"_What choice did I have? Deny to myself that I don't crave your touch every moment of my treacherous existence? He proposed to me last night and all I could think of was __**you**__!"_

_I expected him to be taken aback by that; to be shocked. Instead his shoulders dropped and he seemed to sadly resigned to confirmation of something he already knew. "I know."_

_Well of course he knew…God forbid Edward Cullen should ever be surprised by anything or anyone!_

"_Exactly! You're in my head, my heart, my soul…EVERYTHING! And I don't want that! I don't want to hurt him, I REFUSE to hurt him!"_

"_So what are you saying?"_

"_I think I'm saying it pretty damned clear!"_

_I couldn't look away, though his eyes were weakening my resolve. A small part of me knew that there was no point saying any of this because it wasn't like we would ever stop. Time, afterlife, hell, God, happiness and the future were all coloured with uncertainty…all but him. I __**knew **__without the slightest doubt that this would never stop. It couldn't stop…such thoughts were blasphemy to the core of everything I loved and believed. _

_But another part of me angrily fought the idea that I was helpless in the face of something that would so devastatingly destroy my beloved Emmett. _

"_It won't destroy him," he answered my thoughts. "Because he doesn't know!"_

"_But I do! Whether he knows or not, this is betrayal beyond the telling of it! I don't want to betray him! I love him!"_

"_As you love me?"_

"_You __**know **__how unfair that is!"_

"_And so do you to stand here and say this! As if my life has any semblance of meaning without you in it? Do you honestly think that I could manage to get through twenty four hours without hope of you? We're too tangled, too sewn together by whatever this is. You rip it apart and you'll destroy us both!"_

"_So…what? Together we're whole, apart we're broken? Look at this! This isn't whole! This is something we do because it's dangerous, because we might get caught! Because you and I are the exact same shade of darkness! Nothing more!"_

_He grabbed me by the upper arms, yanking my face dangerously close to his. His eyes were wild, electricity cracking around him almost. I was terrified, desolate and yet so completely alive. Alive in the way I could only feel when I could be alone with him. Even fighting with him was this incredible, virulent experience; enough to shake me from whatever righteousness I had been masquerading beneath, sending all morals soaring away, dissolving into nothingness like water into fire. Pretending I was strong enough to end this…saying terrible, irreversible things to him and hearing him say them back, knowing that at any moment it would break, shatter and spiral away into dizzying heat and all animosity would melt violently into something else…and I had lost all reasoning…forgotten why I had ever tried to stand in the way of something so unstoppable…so terrifyingly necessary. _

"_Nothing more?" he echoed in a trembling fury. "I've torn myself apart for you, Rosalie Hale! How dare you stand there and call it nothing?"_

_I wanted nothing more than to let it break; to let the moment crack beneath the pressure and weight of such forceful, incurable emotions. I wanted to dissolve into him, lose everything else and let the chains of responsibility and morality dance away into the darkness. I wanted him so much it redefined the word 'want'. _

_But I put both hands flat against his chest and shoved him away roughly. It took all my strength to move him, as he used all his to stand his ground. It was only one step back and not enough to clear my head, but I had to be the rational one tonight. What did he know, anyway? He had nothing to lose…no-one in his life who so adored him and depended upon him. Who loved him without question…who made him a better person because he was loved by them. _

"_It's not nothing," I breathed, heavily. "You're right - it's not. It's everything, Edward. Everything and you know it shouldn't be."_

"_I don't care," he said, lifting his chin a little. _

"_You love Emmett," I pointed out. _

"_Yes, I do. But I'd take you from him in a moment if I thought you'd come with me. I'd break his heart if it meant I could have you."_

_I turned away from him because it was unspeakable injustice to say something like that, when it had been his idea to use Emmett as the mediator in the first place. _

"_If he ever finds out," I said, wrapping my arms around myself because I had suddenly turned cold. "I would never touch you…never look at you…ever again. You hurt him, and I'll destroy us both."_

"_You don't mean that."_

"_Look into my eyes on the day it happens and see for yourself."_

"_That will _never_ happen!"_

"_How can be you be so sure?"_

"_Because I would do anything for you! If it means I can keep you, even like…like this! I'll do anything you want me to! He will NEVER find out, I swear to you!"_

_Unstoppable, inexorable, inescapable…whatever words we exchanged before the tension snapped and caught fire were meaningless in the face of what was coming. What was _always_ coming. What was always hidden beneath the veneers of masterful lies and deceptions. What existed in me like a dormant creature, waiting impatiently for freedom. _

"_You promise me?" The fight was gone - it had left me the moment those words were out of his mouth. I was postponing the glorious inevitable now. Delaying the moment, though I didn't know why. _

_He just looked at me, the back of his index fingers running down my cheek. I knew what he was saying…more words than my wedding vows…more passion than the first time I had made love with Emmett…more than anything I had ever dreamed existed. _

_And all resistance and defiance left inside me, broke apart spectacularly. _

* * *

I thought about it later, sometime before dawn. Alone in the gardens, wandering through the thick darkness, the scent and taste of him still surrounding me, I thought about what he had said and what it actually meant.

Though there was nothing standing between Emmett and I; no distance, no detachment, no remoteness and certainly no formality - it became clear to me in those moments that there was distance between Edward and I…and it was the people we loved.

The people we loved, were responsible for, cared for and lived with were the things keeping us truly apart.

Such a wonderful thing; my marriage, my life with Emmett…was actually an obstruction between myself and Edward, however necessary it might have been. I knew Bella Swan was becoming such an obstacle herself. I knew that he was falling in love with her, as I had fallen for Emmett. Beautiful, interesting beings so full of light and joy.

And we, Edward and I, were so the contrary…such creatures born of darkness and strangeness, absolute desire and wholly consuming want. How could we not be attracted to such people? Though I violently despised her, I could see why he was falling for her. She was everything the opposite of me. Frail, insecure, needy, delicate, gentle, selfless, unassuming. She would love him with everything she had and it could be real…corporeal. She would worship him, attach herself to him completely. She would be his and no-one else's.

And she would become yet another complication set between us. Another person to lie to, another person to protect from the devastating truth. Another impediment to work around, just so we could be together.

It would have been tragic, if it wasn't so overwhelmingly vital.

I could hear the sounds of my family inside; Jasper, Alice and Edward had returned an hour ago and I had retreated outside silently. No-one had questioned my absence, especially not Emmett. He seemed to know when I wanted to be left alone and he didn't take it personally, thank God. From his silent understanding, the others must have gleaned that it was nothing serious - just that I was in a solitary sort of mood.

Esme was telling stories again; stories we all knew back to front, but loved hearing anyway. Stories of times we'd been through together, spun beautifully by her undying bias for each of us. I heard Emmett's booming laugh, Alice playfully denying whatever the story was indicating about her.

In a way, I was glad to be outside. Sometimes the happiness and ignorance of the others was suffocating. To sit with them, so blithely happy and unaware…it made me feel claustrophobic; trapped and incarcerated by their love and trust. I didn't deserve any of it.

The moon was gone; invisible without the sun to illuminate it. Without such a source, it was just a dark rock - unable to produce light of it's own. Morbidly, I pondered the similarities between Emmett and I of such a metaphor. He the eternal sunshine and light - I the dark rock, circulating around a planet, bathing in the sunlight whenever I could.

I leant my arms against a large pine tree, dropping my head down. This was useless, what could be gained by obsessing over it?

The tree groaned as the pressure grew and I wished I could lean fully into it and push it over, uprooting it completely. I didn't know why, though.

"I wouldn't do that," came that voice, melting into the darkness. "That's Esme's favourite tree."

I wasn't even surprised that he was here. Half of me had only been out here because he might come. How pathetic.

When he spoke, he was closer than he had been before. "No," he breathed and it moved over my neck, forcing me to suppress a shiver. "Not pathetic. All I've done all day is wait for a chance to be alone with you. It's all I ever do."

My hands clawed into the tree trunk with effort of trying to keep my head together. I was in two halves; split down the centre by the pull of desire. Half of me loved Emmett, this half was loyal and stubborn. It knew I should leave, go inside and sit on Emmett's lap. Prove to him that we were fine…over the worst, closer than before. It would make him so happy to know that. But the other half, the more vocal, currently dominant half, didn't care. It didn't care about Emmett, or the family, or anyone else on this planet besides the man standing behind me. It screamed at me to turn around because he was standing right there, alone with me! It tore through me with every breath, burned and hurt me when I refused or tried to fight it.

"Why are you here?" I managed to say, as if it wasn't what I spent all my time fantasising about. "The others…"

"The others," he interrupted smoothly. "Didn't notice."

He might have been lying; his voice was too smooth, lacking a certain roughness. A voice he used to charm humans away from any suspicions or fear. I wondered if he used the same voice on Bella.

"I try not to," he answered.

"Please stay out of my head."

"How? I've lost the ability to tell my thoughts from yours. Especially when we're alone."

"Have you spoken to Jasper yet?" I asked, wildly trying to keep my mind on something rational.

"Rosalie." He said my name in such a way that my hands convulsively tore deeper into the body of the tree. "Stop. Turn around, look at me."

Overpowering déjà vu drove through my, reminding me of that night seventy years ago when this really begun. The origin of this betrayal…the beginning of such achingly wonderful treachery. I had tried to keep my back to him then, I had tried to block him out for the sake of Emmett just like I was now.

The difference was that now there was something dividing his attention. I wasn't the solitary focus of his world any more. There was someone else in his life now. Was this how he felt about me and Emmett? Maybe. Maybe I just loved him more than he loved me. Maybe I couldn't bear it because I felt more for him.

"I seriously doubt that," he whispered, far too close. His body would brush mine any minute and when it did, I knew what was going to happen.

Unstoppable, inexorable, inescapable…three words I was well acquainted with.

What was the point of trying to pretend I was strong enough to prevent it? I had already thought of logical ways we could hide each other's scent if we only kissed…already devised ways to hide whatever other intimacies occurred. The only thing that remained, cold and stoic, in my corner of loyalty to Emmett, was the thought of that girl, somewhere across town. I thought of how she was tearing him apart with obvious desire. I thought of how he tried to hide what he felt for her.

"Rose," he said, his hands sliding around my hips, up my sides and behind my shoulders. My lips parted slightly, though I didn't move. "Look at me."

And I turned, removing my hands from the tree, smothered in sticky, strong smelling pine tree sap. Outlined in the darkness by what meagre light existed, invisible to humans…there he was. His eyes boring down into mine, trying to see right through me…all the way into my soul…_our _soul.

"She's not you," he said simply, and the flawlessness was gone. "She's not you and she never will be."

There was a full moment of silence in which I was sure he could hear the crashing of my resolve as it imploded. Then there was only violent, undiluted want and need and the feel of that desire being fulfilled. His mouth moving on mine, the taste of his lips and tongue…the feel of his skin and the muscles that moved under my hands on his back. The heat from his body as it pressed into me, trying - as I was - to make us into one, perfect whole being. My hands were leaving sticky trails of sap everywhere, it had to hurt but he didn't seem to care. When he dragged his fingers through my hair, I moaned into his mouth and he shoved both of us back into the gouged tree. Above us, thousands of pine needles shook and fell, raining down upon us. I couldn't force myself to care. Rationality was gone, replaced by something ever-present, biding it's time.

I stopped thinking, let my consciousness slip away and I threw myself into him, us…this. Because I knew there was no point in trying to pretend like I wasn't hopelessly, unstoppably…irretrievably…eternally...desperately...irreversibly...

* * *

_A/N - Hey guys. This was long in two ways. a) It's long. 30 pages long to be exact. b) It took SO long to write. I've been working tirelessly on this for days, basically non-stop as much as possible and yet it was tremendously hard to write. Mainly because I rewrote it a couple of times. I like this chapter, despite how difficult it was to write. Yes, I'm also well aware that nothing significant occured. The next chapter- literally straight into the first lines - deals with some serious Rosalie/Edward stuff, including discussing the beach and Bella. _

_I know it seems to be moving at a slow pace, but that's because I really want to get this done properly before we move into serious Bella-Territory. Bear with me, I'm-a-workin' hard. *Cough-REVIEWS!-Cough*_

_Before very 'subtly' requesting reviews and feedback - pretty much all I live for - there is some massive recognition and thanks to be dished out. _

_Frickin'-Amazing-Wonderful-Fantastic-Amber! What can I even say that won't make me sound insinscere? Thank you, beyond what I'm capable of expressing. Robyn, brilliant, darling Robyn. Hugs, kisses, love and endless appreciation for your enthusiasm and kindness, without which there would a be a significant delay in chapters. Femme Teriyaki, thank you so much for the life-saving review - I meant every word. The kick-ass, awesome and just generally brilliant Aceswild, you have no idea how much I enjoy discussing this with you. CrAzCookyTash12 - thanks and love to you for the wonderful enthusiasm and kindness. marieLONDON for knowing and commenting on all my favourite parts, making me freshly enthused about this story. narutoclaymorelove4eva, thank you so much my darling for your reviews, your loveliness and general awesomeness - I loved the song, too. Thanks. Youko-Kokuryuuha for incredible, helpful feedback. _

_Big thanks to everyone else; MayCullen, Ryoko05, Mia Arabella Malfoy, Maximista, VenusRising, , luv4ed, swill12, xtinkerxbell08x, mjinaspen, MACgical, twiggy94, Elhayln, rachelm23, AmyA.W. Thanks to you all so much, I treasure every word. _

_I'm hopeful that the next will be up soon, as I've devoted a significant portion of my life in the last three days planning the next five chapters. _

_PLEASE REVIEW!_

_Thanks all so much for reading, really hope you enjoyed it. _

_x x x x x_

_Bex_

_x x x x x _


	26. Chapter 26: Turning Points

**-Chapter Twenty Six: Turning Points-**

**-Edward-**

Her tears, dispelling much of the mythology surrounding our material existence, were warm on my lips as I kissed them away. Not a salty taste, but a sweet flavour like sugar water. The idea that we couldn't cry was laughable. Our bodies might have been cold and hard; solid and glittering marble…but we could cry, among other things. I had spoken to Carlisle about it once; the science of such a phenomenon. We didn't bleed, obviously. I knew that much. No heartbeat to pump the blood around, but what about other things? He had patiently answered these questions, when the Cullen family had only comprised of three members. Tears could run, if the emotions were strong enough. And if the emotions were strong enough, other things could occur as well. More human traits, forced to the surface by such powerful sentiments and passions. I had never cried about anything but Rosalie. Nothing else was strong enough to draw tears from my immortal, perfect form.

It seemed to be the same for her.

I was no stranger to the taste of her tears. I had kissed her countless times and felt the warm trickles on our lips. The only time we could be together meant she had to lie and betray her husband, my brother. Our happiness was at great cost (albeit unknowingly) to a person we both loved.

She was crying and I was kissing away the tears because I simply didn't know what else to do.

"Don't cry," I begged. "Please, Rose. Please don't cry."

It was unfair of me to beg her not to, when it was so obviously necessary. I knew I should be gentlemanly; allow her to cry and let it all out. But I wasn't a gentleman. I had said and done terrible, vulgar things to Rosalie and there seemed little point now in trying to pretend I was better than I really was.

There had been minimal physical pain in those long years of my existence. Most of it revolving around her, of course. Pain was like a distant memory…real pain was something I hadn't felt since before my death. My immortal body could withstand almost anything and the idea of pain seemed, predominantly, more like a faraway dream. A lost sensation, akin to sleep.

Only now I was in pain. Seeing her like this sent shockwaves of it through me like never before. Seeing my strong, beautiful, resilient Rosalie like this…pain wasn't the word.

Five minutes ago, we had been kissing. Was kissing the right term? Did such a generic, broad description really cover what we had been doing? The expression seemed so inaccurate; like labelling a diamond as glass - mistaking gold for iron. Regardless, we had been together; rapidly losing ourselves in each other, the world spinning away into divine oblivion…that sensation that eluded any true, accurate form of illustration.

But then it had stopped, and I realised immediately why.

I had pushed her away.

At first, I didn't really understand it. I thought maybe my mind was ahead of my other senses; that someone was coming and my brain had sensed it before my disoriented body.

Only no-one was. They were all still inside the house; still together, still laughing. I could hear Emmett laughing while his lover's taste was still on my lips; the heat of her body pulsing through me, leaving traces of white hot desire in my blood that refused to fade.

She had looked as stunned by this as I felt. I didn't understand why I had pushed her away from me; it was the _last_ thing I wanted to do. Ever. She was the foundation of my sanity; my whole world…all I wanted was a chance to touch her, to be with her. Rosalie Hale possessed me like some unholy, angelic demon…I was _hers_ and she was _mine_. Why would I push her away?

Her eyes said everything; I didn't need to see into her mind at all to understand what she automatically interpreted the basis of my rejection to be.

Before I'd even had a chance to deny that it was anything whatsoever to do with Bella Swan, it had happened. She hit me hard, right across the face. As hard as she could, all her strength swung into her arm and my head turned with an echoing '_CRACK_!'. It sounded like something in my neck had given way to the force of the blow, but it didn't matter. I blinked, expelling a shocked breath and still hadn't had time to inhale to speak before she hit me again. And again. And again. Each time she hit me, her strength decreased slightly. Over and over, until my ears were ringing.

When she went to hit me for the last time, I caught her wrist mid air - not to save myself, but to see her face. To look at her, to understand - without reading her mind - why she felt the need to do this.

And I could see how hurt she was. Her eyes radiated pain from their lovely, golden depths. Her mind was in complete indecipherable furore - each thought contaminated by an irrational, but deeply rooted anger. She swore at me violently and then wrenched her wrist from my grasp.

The words fell out of my mouth. "I'm sorry. I don't know why….please, Rose. I'm so sorry."

Which was when she'd started to cry. She didn't burst into tears. I had watched her try to stop it; try to fight it. I had watched her fail and her eyes well up before she turned away from me, uselessly trying to hide it as if it were unforgivable weakness.

And now here she was, in my arms as we knelt on the grass of our garden. She clung to me and I held onto her, utterly lost.

"Don't cry," I repeated, holding her face in my hands. "Rosalie, look at me! Please don't do this!"

I hated that she automatically knew why she couldn't cry with me here, and I hated even more than she actually did stop crying. She put her hands to her face, took a deep, trembling, breath and stopped. I pulled her hands from her face, damp with the sugary tears and I kissed her on the mouth; not with desire or desperate need - I kissed her because we were both in pain and it was the only way to make it stop.

Silently, she sobbed against my mouth, but she had stemmed the flow of tears for now. She kissed me back; her damp, sticky hands reaching up into my hair, the tree sap pulling at it, but failing to rip it out. Her fingers travelled down over my neck, onto my shoulders where she pulled me closer, shifting her weight so that she was on top of me now, straddling me as I knelt before her on the grass. She wrapped her legs around my waist and ground her body into mine in such a way that I emitted an involuntary groan; almost a sob that mingled with her own.

And it almost happened again - I went to push her away; my arms starting to move without permission to remove her from me, but her body moved against mine again, harder this time and the motion to remove her faltered. The insanity was pounding through my head, like an angry neighbour knocking at the door. I knew we should stop…this wasn't safe; too dangerous, too risky. But her recklessness was contagious and the way she _felt_ all around me…everyone has breaking points.

I caved and resigned myself to the fact that something was going to happen right here and now and I wouldn't be able to stop it. I felt helpless in the face of her fraught, anguished desire; powerless to stop it, incapable of denying how much I wanted and needed it. Her body had too long been parted from mine; the feel of her skin, the taste of her, the heat and the jarring ecstasy that would shatter us both into uncaring, exquisite pieces…only to meld us back together again, but not as two separate beings. As one trembling, achingly beautiful creature bonded by that which neither one could express or deny.

I wanted it more than I could say; my body craved it to such an extent that it was almost angry with me for even _considering_ thinking about consequences. What did that matter, when she was on top of me like this, fusing our bodies together through clothes, skin and bones? What did it matter that Emmett was so close by? That in about five second I was going to tear her clothes off? That we would never be able to conceal this from anyone? That everyone would know…Alice, Jasper, Esme, Emmett…Carlisle.

The last two names sent cold splinters of reality through my system, waking me ever so slightly from the heat induced haze. I opened my eyes and realised my hands were under her clothes and that her teeth were dragging across my jawbone with unrestrained licentiousness while her pine scented fingers were trailing down my chest, past my stomach and to my belt. The sounds of the metal clinking, the teeth of the zip coming undone…I choked on a gasp and she reclaimed my mouth with her own, undoubtedly to silence whatever objections I might have voiced.

Unstoppable territory now…Alice would see…they would all know. Irreparable damage. But…Oh God! Any and all coherent thoughts were too busy screaming with pleasure, bathing in the blissful torment of such delight. Then my back hit the grass with a dull thud and there were four and a half second where I allowed myself to feel the full extent…every nuance…of what she was making me feel.

And then I breathed a word that violently altered the foundations of what we were creating. "Stop!"

She should have stopped. We _both_ should have stopped. There were a million reasons why we shouldn't be doing this; it was a catastrophically bad idea. She should have let me up; stopped kissing me and driving me wild with the mere feel of her. But she didn't. She pinned my wrists down on either side of me and held me beneath her, drowning me in merciless kisses, as if she hadn't even heard what I'd said.

"Rosalie, please," I tried to reason against her unremitting, determined lips. "Stop. We have to stop!"

She didn't. Instead she put my wrists together, held them with one hand over my head and tore open my shirt with the other. I couldn't read her mind, but I didn't need to. It pulsated through her every fibre…bleeding through my skin, into my soul.

Need. Need. Need.

She _needed_ me like I needed her, and I could feel that a part of her didn't care if anyone saw. She knew that if anyone saw us, I would be forced to make a decision. A life altering decision that would involve a terrible choice. She knew that and in a very dark, thoughtless sort of way…she liked it. Mindlessly driven by the tremendous desire, no-one else was present in her mind. Only she and I…pounding through her cold veins, leaving a white hot trail through the long stagnant blood.

Something primal and ruthless was stirring inside of her; something taking over, giving her what she wanted but by means of something she wouldn't normally consider. Force. Even though I was kissing her back, my body responding to everything she was doing…something was very wrong. I wasn't in control at all. In fact, I was completely out of control. Helpless…powerless to stop her. Even though I couldn't deny that a darker part of my being was enjoying this subjection, this had to stop. It had to stop before we lost everything we worked so hard to build.

"Rosalie!" It came out as a choked plea - weaker than I wanted it to be. She didn't react to that; she ignored it completely, driving her tongue deeper into my mouth. Her only reaction to my ineffectual request was to tighten the grip on my wrists. I realised that she seemed a lot stronger than me all of a sudden and for the first time in my immortal life, I felt….afraid. Genuinely afraid because there was someone stronger than I was and they wanted something from me. Something that I desperately wanted too, but not to at such a cost.

There was a strange aftertaste to her magnificently fatal kisses; brutal, bruising carelessness. Whatever we might be, however we might treat one another, there was always massive, overwhelming reciprocation. As she forcefully bit at my bottom lip, I realised that she wasn't going to stop unless I made her.

Laughter from inside the house broke me from my moratoria and I wrenched my wrists from her iron grip, shoving her back. Hard.

We were heavily, painfully out of breath. Gasping and panting in the night air; no trace of our exhalations on this cold night, our bodies were colder than the surrounding darkness. But to me, I could still feel the heat from her all over my skin…my lips were swollen and wet from her vicious kisses and my wrists still ached painlessly with the memory of her unyielding grip.

"What are you doing?" I breathed, unable to tear my eyes away from her, kneeling on the grass only a few feet away.

Her eyes flashed, to cover something undoubtedly heart-rending. "What did it _feel _like I was doing?" she snarled.

"I think we both know what you were doing!"

Her snarl curled up into a sneer. "Oh please! You're hardly a poor defenceless little human!"

"You've _lost _your _mind_!"

A provocation which extracted a particularly nasty swearword from her, in place of my name. I didn't have to look down at myself to know my shirt was torn open; to know that I had bite marks on the skin of my neck and collarbone. If we didn't move now, it would be impossible to conceal. But I couldn't move. I just sat there on the grass; trembling violently, spellbound in the shadow of such perilous insanity.

"Why?" I asked.

She looked away from me; my lack of discernment was an obvious offence. I searched her anarchic, frenzied mind for one cold, clean answer to the imposing madness. Nothing to be gleaned from the whirlwind of bittersweet familiarity. Only the vaguely primitive feel, still yearning for what she had almost taken. Until I had stopped her.

Jesus Christ….I'd had to _stop_ her.

"Why?" she echoed with irresponsible volume. "_Why? _You want to know why, you inconceivable bastard? How about _why not_?"

"Keep your voice down!"

"NO! I WON'T!" she practically screamed at me. "LET THEM ALL HEAR IT! LET THEM COME AND FIND US!"

I closed the space between us and clamped my hand over her mouth, silencing her. She struggled against me, and it took all my strength to keep it there. After a second, she got some leverage and swung her elbow into my face as hard as she could. BANG! I saw a bright flash of golden light blaze past my eyes. My hand slipped away from her mouth, but she didn't resume her screams.

"You're out of your f…" I started to say, but she hit me again. Not the slap of an outraged woman, but a hard fist swung with serious momentum into the side of my jaw. It hit like an asteroid, and if I thought my sight had blurred before it was nothing to this.

My head rocked back, but I didn't fall. I could have, given the extreme state I was in, but something held me up.

"Out of my mind for taking what's mine? For being with you? You ARE mine, do you understand that? You're mine and I'm yours and nothing will change that. _Not time, or love or obligation. Not lies or coldness or even God! _Remember that, Edward? Remember what you promised me?"

"And you made me swear to you that they would never find out! Do you want them to know now, Rosalie? Is the secrecy no longer an aphrodisiac?"

"How dare you!"

"Because let me tell you now, I've got less to lose than you!"

Her fury turned icy cold and a nasty smile curled her lips upward. "Really? That might have been true a few months ago, but not anymore. Now you've got something to lose, right? Your perfect, delicate little Isabella Swan! You can't risk losing that, can you, love?"

"Who are you to judge me? Who _are_ you anymore? Do I you even know?"

"Oh why the harsh clarity all of a sudden? Things not going like you planned? I guess it's alright to keep me in a little box while you plan what to do with your new toy, but it's not alright for us to be together when _you're_ not quite in mood?"

"In the mood?" I echoed with disgust. "Listen to yourself!"

"Did you think I was just going to sit back and forget about it?" she snarled.

"Forget what?"

"Well I don't know…how about the beach, Edward? Did you think I was going to forget that?"

I swallowed hard; we hadn't properly spoken about it since it happened and now hardly seemed like the time to objectively discuss such a stint of absolute chaotic insanity.

"No." Rosalie didn't forget anything. Ever. "But this is neither the time nor the place!"

"Well I say it is! Look at what she's done to you; turned you into a pitiful, messed up little boy who needs to feel pain to know he's still alive!"

"Compared to what, Rose? Compared to you? A person so far removed from dignity, pride…self-respect that you're reduced to _this?_"

And so mercurial a creature she was, she turned away from me unexpectedly and put her hand to her mouth. I had been prepared for this continue; more insults, more cuts and bruises to the soul we shared. But she broke first and all my anger and rage went with her.

"I'm trying," she said throatily. "God, I'm trying to accept it. I…there's only you and I can't even think what it'll be like when you…"

"-Stop! You're being stupid, nothing has happened…I don't even know what I feel yet! Everyone seems to think this is a done deal, but I don't _know_ what I even feel for her yet!"

I stared at her back, her glorious golden hair visible to me in the moonless night. I knew the feel of it, the scent of it…I knew every inch of her. I knew _her_.

"Did you ever…? When you were human, before all this, did you ever drink champagne?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Did you?"

"No. Never. I never drank anything."

"I didn't think you had. You realise you'll go through eternity never having been drunk?"

"I've been intoxicated in many other ways, Rosalie," I said with an underlying impatience, trying to steer her back to some level of sanity that might resolve this. "As you are well aware."

She shook her head. "It's not the same. You missed out, really. It's wonderful. Golden and delicious; strong and dizzying. The world blurs and everything turns warm. Nothing matters, nothing seems wrong. Temporary bliss."

"You're saying I'm like champagne?" I asked, trying to see where it was going.

"No. It's not real, what you feel then. It's this beautiful distraction from everything else and it makes you smile; makes you feel wonderful. But it's not real." She turned around and looked at me; her eyes striking me like lightning. "The man I love, Emmett…that's what he's like. Warm, bright, beautiful and strong."

"Alright," I slowly said, with uncertainty.

"When you go to her, see if that's how it feels."

"Excuse me?"

"When you go to her tonight," she repeated with a hard edge. "To watch her sleep. Tell me if that's how she makes you feel."

"Rosalie, please…"

"-No, Edward. Don't lie to me anymore. Don't stand there and tell me you feel nothing for her. I know you do and I have to know what you feel. When you know, tell me."

"I'm not lying! You think I could deal with all this if any word of what I felt for you was a lie?"

She watched me with dark eyes, such shadows beneath her eyelashes.

"No, Edward. I would never doubt that. What I doubt is your ability to feign indifference towards this human. A human who threatens all in our world."

I knew without requesting further clarification, that she meant _our_ world. The world of Rosalie and I. The world we created, existed in and sometimes destroyed together just so we could rebuild a new one.

"She threatens nothing! I'm yours, Rosalie! I am _nothing _if not yours!"

And after a very long pause, she walked towards the house, uttering the unsteady words "We shall see."

* * *

The wind was still and silent; waiting to see if I would do what I came here to do. Truthfully, it went against my nature to do something so voyeuristic and perverse. Watching Rosalie was one thing; watching an innocent human girl while she slept in her own bed, blissfully unaware of the turmoil occurring in her name, was quite another.

The Swan residence was a typically quaint Forks home. Typical cream coloured exteriors, typical black slate roof. Windows with the same sorts of frames and glass. One frame in particular I would see up close when I stopped pointlessly deliberating the issue.

'_And what does it really matter?'_ I tried to convince myself. _'She won't even know I'm there. I can go, look at her and prove Rosalie wrong. End of story.'_

Or such was my plan, at least. For really, I did believe in those moments before I came to be watching Bella Swan sleeping, that everyone was exaggerating my feelings on this matter grossly. My confusion taken massively out of proportion.

With nonchalant ease, I climbed up the side of the house, landing on her windowsill as silent as a cat. I perched there, cautiously sensing to see if she was awake. Very unlikely, so late at night. Indeed, she was fast asleep. Her deep, rhythmic breathing assured me of this. I pushed the purple curtains aside gently and she came into view.

She was sprawled across her bed in an adorably messy sort of way. Her mouth was open as she slept, the tiniest little snores occasionally emitting past her hot, delicate lips. She lay on her front, head turned to the side. The deep kind of sleep that invokes the idea of absolute solitude; no-one there to watch them or see how inelegantly they lounge on their own beds. Her hair was around her face, on the pillow. Her body moved with each breath; infinitesimal little lifts and falls. Her right hand hung over the side of the bed; no rings anywhere to be seen on her naked fingers.

Apart from the overwhelming scent, I couldn't really see what Rosalie was talking about at first. Certainly it was fascinating to watch her sleep, but only in a dispassionate, medical sort of way. The rhythm of her breathing was like it's own kind of music; soft and hypnotic. The heat coming from her body was also interesting, but not in the way Rosalie had predicted it would be for me. No. She was alluring, but everything that drew me in had it's foundations in her blood. The smell, the heat. Everything.

I stayed a little while longer, determinedly not breathing, before I felt satisfied. I had watched her sleep, been alone with her. More than the relief I felt at Rosalie's inaccurate predications, I felt proud of myself that I could be this close to her without losing control. She was alone, it would be the perfect time. I could have her all to myself, lose myself in the achingly sweet taste of her blood…but I didn't.

Finally, I realised she would be waking soon. The night was almost over, forced to retreat to places where the sun did not touch. Curious, how the sun and darkness chased one another over the planet endlessly. Never any stability; instead a perpetual pursuit of the other.

I tensed my muscles, about to turn away to leave and go back to her, when Bella stirred and I froze in place, suddenly terrified that she _was_ awake and that she had seen me.

I couldn't move. I watched her carefully, she cleared her throat slightly; little moaning sounds and a crease of worry on her brow. She was dreaming. I couldn't move.

"No," she muttered, her voice lower than normal, rough and coarse as she spoke. "No! Edward…don't…leave…I love you, Edward…stay…don't...so much."

She rolled her head slightly until her brow smoothed out and the dream melted into something less troubling.

And that's when it happened. I was able to pinpoint the exact moment I stopped pretending that I felt nothing for Bella Swan. I stopped pretending it was all about her blood, my desire not to become a monster. I stopped pretending I was strong enough to deny it.

It hit me like a ten foot wave; enormously disorientating. I gripped the window frame, ignoring the splintering wood under my fingers.

The moment I stopped pretending, I knew. I knew it and I wouldn't be able to deny it from this moment onwards.

I was in love with Bella, and nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

It took a few days for me to fully get to grips with it; days in which Rosalie ignored me flawlessly. I didn't need to tell her about what happened - she clearly knew. Made obvious because of my silence, or my hesitation to go to her. Maybe it was tattooed on my forehead, it didn't really matter. I couldn't let my mind even begin to contemplate such a matter, when I had first yet to fully grasp _this_.

I was in love with Bella. Bella Swan had somehow, in the course of about two seconds, taken my world and turned around completely.

It altered everything. It altered me, it altered my life, my priorities. The way I perceived everything. I had never been in love with anyone else and it was jarring.

As the lonely days ached by, I came to realise that what Rosalie and I felt for one another could never be described as 'being in love'. For one thing, I found I could articulate _everything_ about Bella. I even wrote it down in once abandoned diaries and journals, lost to the years and lack of enthusiasm. How many times, after all, could my hand stop itself from writing the name 'Rosalie' to save us from any suspicion? If I couldn't write about her, then there was little else to write about.

Now it was different. Bella was so…tangible. I could write about her. Once I was able to grasp the concept, I knew I would be able to talk about it to other people too. Carlisle, Esme…Emmett even.

I was excited, almost. A light sort of happiness came over me as the days progressed and I found myself at her windowsill with increasing frequency during particular nights. I watched her sleep with growing protectiveness. I wanted to keep each breath safe until she took the next one. She seemed so fragile - all my bright, lovely happiness wrapped up in such delicate skin and breakable bones. I had never really cared about the fragility of humans. I did now. I would check her truck (an endless source of worry for me) to make sure the brakes were fully functional, the tyres were deep enough in tread. The engine, the doors, the suspension…everything. Then I would sit at her windowsill and watch her, like some benevolent travesty of Dracula from the films. The monster watching the beautiful maiden sleep, fleeing before the sun could expose him. Sometimes she spoke; occasionally it was about her mother, but mainly me. She said my name in a way that ghosted over her warm, enticing lips. She moved and sometimes cried out. The first time that happened, I left the windowsill and went to her, hand extended to touch her. I couldn't bear to see her crying out, even if it was only because of her dreams. I never touched her; my hands would have woken her undoubtedly, but also there were certain lines I wasn't prepared to cross. Monster, yes. Morally ambiguous immortal who watched her sleep, yes. Cold, dead thing who came into her room and touched her? No. I would become that. There were limits and I would keep to them as best I could.

I watched her at school so much that my family were starting to get annoyed with me. I tried my best to block out everything that Rosalie was thinking, though the necessity was rare. She thought about me as little as possible and instead found a different way of punishing me for my helpless adoration of someone other than her.

Rosalie didn't seem to be dealing with what had happened in the garden, or more accurately…nearly happened. She shut it out completely and focused all her energy on Emmett; an easy thing to do when the recipient couldn't have been more eager to receive it. I struggled to recall a time when they were so overwhelmingly involved. It seemed that Rosalie had been holding back to some extent, with Emmett. She wasn't anymore. Sometimes, on occasion that I had to stay away from the Swan residence, I'd hear them talking through the night, into the hours of dawn and continue the conversations in the car on the way to school. I'd hear everything they said to one another; planning to leave for a while - get away from such madness. Jealousy wasn't normally an issue. I could control it well, because of my love for Emmett. Guilt and love were a potent preventative cure for any jealousy I might have felt over the years of witnessing their unashamed, loving intimacy. It was different now. She was giving him _everything_. Proving to me how replaceable I was…how she didn't need me at all. I might have been driven mad for it, were it not for Bella. My focus on her was intense - I could almost block everything else out, so long as I kept my focus on her.

That obscenely psychotic, irresponsibly risky incident in our very own garden with Rosalie… God only knows how we got away with it. No-one knew about it, though our conduct couldn't have been more patently obvious. The only person who knew, was Jasper. He didn't even resolve to speak to me about it; he just turned his head away with disgusted resignation to the reality of such wilfulness. Denial, I knew to some extent, played a large part in it. Emmett and Alice certainly weren't obtuse; there were just limits to how much people could take. Emmett was still suffering with the guilt of his previous suspicions; he wouldn't be quick to jump to such conclusions again.

Carlisle was very worried about me, for reasons beyond his own comprehension. I knew he would talk to me soon, when he more fully understood the underlying causes for the change in my persona.

I could feel myself changing. The more I watched her, the more I fell in love. The more I fell in love, the more I felt responsible for her life. I lost focus on other things; I couldn't take my attention away from her.

Sometimes she would look at me and I wasn't quick enough to look away. Our eyes would meet and I felt as though my heart had started beating. Then she would look away, quickly and I would still feel the same way for hours afterwards. Her mere glance breathed life into my cold body in a way that I'd never felt before.

Rosalie was right….champagne. Light. Warmth. Was this how she felt with Emmett?

I knew that when this was more under my control, that very argument was my way back into her life. Our life. I knew that once things were a little less chaotic, I would go to her and say that it was no different to how she felt about Emmett. She loved him as I now loved Bella - what could she begrudge of me that she did not have herself?

But that time was not yet. I still had to come to terms with my own feelings first.

For in truth, I was getting ahead of myself. I might have been in love with Bella, but I was still a monster. That part of me thirsted for her blood in such a way that it physically _hurt_ me to be close to her and not act. And in other ways, I was having trouble accepting it for other reasons.

Firstly, I was wary of my own sentiments. Though I could not doubt the veracity of what I felt, I did not trust the speed at which it had occurred. My only basis for experience was, of course, with Rosalie. Falling and admitting to being in love with Rosalie Hale had taken a long, arduous amount of time. I had questioned myself, my sanity…everything, for so long before finally accepting the inevitability of what I was involved in. I hated her before I loved her; wanted her gone before I could admit to needing her constantly. Everything with Rosalie had it's price. A price I had gotten used to paying in exchange for what we could have together. The greatest depths of despair for the most breathtaking heights of joy. Desolation in exchange for happiness. Destruction in exchange for completion.

But this…this wasn't the same. I kept waiting for the balance to come; for something to obliterate the cautious happiness and replace it with the balancing aspect. Light and dark - good and bad. Yet nothing did. The only real darkness in all of it, was my own nature. I was so frightened at the thought of losing control, that I couldn't stand my own feelings. Her blood sang to me every moment that I was near to her; it drew me in, whispered to me that my desires were rational. That she wanted it as much as I did. That resisting was useless. And I would force myself to look away from the girl I loved so much, and later I would hunt to quench the thirst, in lieu of what I really wanted.

A more logical part of me tried to rationalise just exactly _how_ I had fallen in love with her, having never really even touched her, let alone kissed her. Watching her sleep was not exactly how I would have liked it to happen, so I questioned it. There was no doubting that I _was_ fiercely in love with her, but I queried _why_.

I knew almost every area of her exterior now; every piece of skin that wasn't covered by clothes, I scrutinised and memorised. I knew every shade of brown that her eyes contained; I knew how some parts were more a golden brown, when the occasional ray of sun penetrated the ceaseless clouds of gloomy Forks. I knew how they glazed over when talking to people she wasn't _really_ interested in. I knew the tone of her skin; the hue of her pallor and the occasional flush of delicious pink whenever she stared at me too long. I knew of the slender bones in her fingers, the way her shoulders hunched slightly when she was being exceptionally shy. I knew the sound of her hair as it moved across her shoulders. I knew her footfalls, how many eyelashes she had, the curve of her ears, the dent in her bottom lip. _Everything_. I studied her without her ever noticing; I could see everything about her using only peripheral vision. I studied her so I could understand why I had fallen in love with her.

For though her beauty was as inviting as it was captivating, that was not why I was in love with her. Nor was it the way she smelled, the way she moved or even the way she looked at me.

Perhaps it was that she loved me, or had at least said so in her dreams. There was no real sense or logic to it, though admittedly more than there would ever be with Rosalie. Maybe there was no _reason_ why anyone fell in love. Maybe it just happened.

There were reasons I adored her though. She was so impossibly…fragile. It was the main thing about her, I think. Something inside me, long since active, demanded that she be taken care of. Chivalry, possibly. My immortality seemed to have a purpose now, whereas before it had been a strange, existential burden. Now I could use it to protect her. To keep her safe, to maintain her frail structure and existence.

Which was another thing I constantly worried about. She was possibly the most clumsy, accident prone human I had ever encountered.

Bella could walk along a flat, clean, empty hallway in Converse All Star's and manage to trip over on thin air. She could stumble and fall without having encountered so much as a rogue dust mite. She didn't just stumble either; she fell down, hard. I watched her friends pick her up off the floor and laugh as she brushed herself off. Clearly a frequent occurrence and certainly not a concern of hers, but it made my life that much more troubled. I sometimes followed her, dismissing the part of me that was disgusted at myself. I followed and watched, desperate to ensure that nothing threatened the delicate frame that contained my beautiful Bella.

Yet it wasn't quite so simple. In love with her as I was, the previously aforementioned conflict was strong. I made a decision, some time ago, that I would stay out her life for her life's sake and it was hard to undo the blunt things I had said to her, not long after the incident in the car park. I ignored her completely in the month that followed the fateful occurrence. It became harder to do so every day.

Biology was hell and heaven combined. Hell because I had to resist; had to be strong and withstand the tremendous lure of her blood. Heaven because I could be close to her; see her, almost _feel_ her. She stared at me sometimes; it made me feel strangely _alive_. The champagne metaphor was disturbingly accurate. Warm, bright, content.

And Rosalie…I didn't know what to do with her, other than leave her alone for a while. I knew it was cruel and that it would be interpreted wrong, but I just couldn't talk to her after what had happened last time.

The truth, when I was brave enough to realise it, was that I was afraid of being close to Rosalie during such a time. I was afraid that being with her would shatter what I was feeling for Bella.

So we kept our distance, maintained the flawlessly plausible façade as always, and focused on the ones we loved. Emmett and Bella…they would never know how much they had in common.

When a month passed, I realised that I wasn't above petty jealousy. Jealousy of the idiotic, teenage males that I had the misfortune to share a school with. I saw how they were with her; how they all looked at her, what they thought about her. I hated them with an uncalled for viciousness. I was jealous of how they could be when close to her; any time she smiled at one of them, a nasty desire to kill the recipient rose up in my chest and had to be suppressed.

Mike Newton, in particular, had narrowly avoided a gruesome death more times than he would ever know. His blind determination and confidence that Bella would chose _him_ to accompany her to the ridiculous Spring Dance, almost cost him his life many times.

One day, whilst in biology, he came extremely close to meeting his demise. He actually garnered the courage (and audacity) to ask her.

Bella saved his life by firmly refusing him and I shoved the plans of his death aside, still furious that he could even _think_ of asking her to go with him to such a pathetic soiree of swarming hormones.

Perhaps it was because of my anger that I was distracted, because before I knew what I was doing, I had said "Bella," effectively stopping her from leaving the classroom. Her back to me, I let my eyes wash over her hair, her shoulders…but that wasn't a good idea. What was I even doing talking to her?

When she turned, her expression was wary. I had hurt her by ignoring her; that much was obvious. I hated myself immediately for putting her through it.

"What? Are you speaking to me again?" she said, with a resentful edge.

How long had it been since I had heard her voice, directed at me? It felt wonderful…too wonderful. I needed to regain control.

"No, not really." Yes, that was a good way to convince her that I wasn't psychotic. Say her name then declare that I wasn't really speaking to her.

She closed her eyes, taking away the pleasure I got from staring into them. "Then what do you want, Edward?"

"I'm sorry." I was. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really." It really was, especially if she wanted to stay alive. I remembered now why I needed to maintain silence and distance from her…being this close, just _talking_ to her was enough to kick the thirst and desire I had for her blood into first priority once more.

Her eyes opened. "I don't know what you mean."

"It's better if we're not friends. Trust me." God, to call it _friendship. _Ridiculous. Why had I even started this conversation?

She looked angry at me now, I didn't blame her. "It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier!" she snapped, more strength to her fragile little voice than I had ever heard before. Conviction was lending it potency. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

I had no idea what she was talking about; I so longed for the ability to read her mind. "Regret? Regret for what?"

"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."

I blinked once, astounded at her declaration. How could she think that? Didn't she have any idea…? That was what she thought of me. I had made her think I regretted saving her life. That was what I had made myself seem to her. Though it was ultimately a good thing, I was furious at myself for making her think that. The anger slipped into my voice when I replied.

"You think I regret saving your life?"

"I _know_ you do!"

_Agree. Put an end to this. Save her life. Lock yourself out of it for good. _

That was what I knew I should do. If I agreed now, it would be over. I could love her from a distance, keep her safe from myself. Revoltingly tragic, but effective maybe.

But something inside wouldn't allow it. I was selfish…I couldn't end it with such finality. I just couldn't.

"You don't know anything."

She whirled away from me, the very picture of righteous anger. It would have looked a lot better, if she hadn't tripped on the doorframe and promptly dropped her books. She sighed, not looking down. Cursing God, perhaps for not even letting her storm away without some measure of gracelessness.

I was there, picking up the books before the thought even expired in my mind. Even her books held the scent of her hands, her skin…_her_. I shuttered my face down and handed them to her.

"Thanks," she said coldly.

"You're welcome," I managed, and watched her leave me, knowing that regardless of what attacks of chivalry and altruism I might be prone to…I was in love with her, I was a selfish being and sooner or later…I was going to break.

* * *

"She's going to Seattle."

Carlisle looked confused, politely so, as if it was his fault he didn't understand my response when he had asked me what was wrong. I was certain he expected me to lay down a long, laborious list of issues and traumas. Instead, I had replied with four words that confused him, and myself in the process.

"You mean Bella?" he clarified. His eyes glanced behind me, to where an open book sat on my desk, filled with my handwriting. He didn't ask and I knew he would die before reading it, thus invading my privacy. He had come to my room to ask me what was wrong; it had been a while since we had spoken.

"Yes," I said. "I heard her today, she's going to Seattle on the day of the Spring Dance."

"Which is a problem because…?"

Didn't he know? Couldn't he see why it was a source of worry for me? She was expecting that ridiculously antediluvian machine to get her all the way to Seattle. Alone.

"Carlisle," I said, deciding not to fully explain the ridiculous, irrational reasons why I didn't want her to go. "What do I do?"

He smiled at me; not really with sympathy or pity, just love. He loved me and wanted to help me. There had been a time when it was only us two; brothers, father and son…it didn't matter. Carlisle meant so much to me. I needed his help, his guidance.

"Edward," he said gently. "You have long since needed my advice."

"I always need your advice."

"No, you are wiser than you give yourself credit for. I have watched you become what you are now with pride. You have little, if anything, to learn from me. You know what to do."

"But I don't," I insisted. "I really don't."

"You know in your heart what to do."

This was true. I did know in my heart what I wanted to do. But my head was against it. Because I loved her, I had to protect her. In order to protect her, she had to stay away from me. But the idea of her going to Seattle…I hated it. Her being so far away, in that monstrosity of a truck…I couldn't stand it.

"I love her, Carlisle," I whispered, so afraid anyone _else_ would hear it. "I love her so much it scares me."

He pulled me into a hug which I returned gratefully. "I know," he whispered back, sensing the need for discretion, though perhaps not the reason why. "And you should not be afraid of it. You're stronger than you think."

"What if I…?"

"You won't," he firmly promised me. "You'll find the strength; it's already there inside you, I promise."

"But," I said, detaching myself from him. "I don't know why I love her."

He smiled again. "You don't?"

"No."

"Remember when we first found Emmett?"

Oh, but I didn't want to. I tried not to let my mind think of what _that_ avenue led to, but it was impossible to keep the memories at bay. "Yes."

"And that night we spoke of the fight between you and Rosalie?"

I could see where he was going with it, so I could be ready for it. "Of course."

"What did I say to you?"

"You said that I would find my soul mate; as you all had found yours. You think she's my soul mate?"

"I think you will never find logical reasons why you are in love with her. Love defies all logic, you know. It defies every piece of logic that exists."

I knew that much from my _other_ experiences.

"You're right," I agreed slowly. "There is no logic. If there was logic then…" But I didn't conclude that sentence, terrified of where it would lead.

"Go with her to Seattle," he told me. "Keep her safe."

"I will."

"But don't forget, Edward…"

He didn't have to say it. I _knew_ how much my family loved me.

Well, all except one perhaps. I doubted she was ever going to look at me again, let alone express some sort of outward affection towards me.

I knew I should talk to her. I knew I should explain. Too much time was passing between and I was putting off the necessary, to save myself from the pain of having to see what my unintentional, highly dysfunctional happiness was doing to her.

I wanted to put my hand on her heart; un-beating and silent and tell her how I felt. _"This…you…everything you've ever done to me or made me feel…you are everything. Don't you see that? Don't you realise, after all these goddamned years, that you are still everything? Bella, Forks, God, time, life, death…they only exist to me, because of you! You're the world and they just live there! If I could tell you what this means to me, you wouldn't have to do this to yourself…to me…us!"_

But I couldn't say that. I couldn't. Saying that would break apart what I was feeling for Bella and I didn't want that. I wanted my fragile, genuinely tangible love, even if I could only watch it from behind glass. I wanted to be in love with Bella because I felt like a better person. If I said that to Rosalie, I knew my love for Bella wouldn't stand the comparison. It didn't have the strength to withstand scrutiny set against the unstoppable essence of what I felt for Rosalie. What I felt _with_ Rosalie.

So I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Instead, I planned what to say to Bella, when I would talk to her tomorrow and casually beg her to let me drive her to Seattle, for various reasons that I knew Rosalie would colour with the greatest sense of betrayal.

So I left my father, my home, my family…and instead went to spend the night watching the girl I loved as she slept…dreaming of me, as I only wished I could dream of her.

* * *

I returned an hour or so before the sun rose, long before Bella could wake up and see me perched there, watching her with frightening intensity. I could only imagine what she would think of me if she knew what I did.

Esme told me, upon my return, that Alice and Jasper had been out all night too. Away from the house. I didn't blame them for wanting some time alone and away from such madness. Jasper and Alice were deeply private, unlike _some_ people.

I heard the giggling and mumbled words before I was fully in the front door. I went upstairs to change into clothes that weren't wet from the lashing rain outside, but I could still hear it. I knew the difference between his mouth on her lips and his mouth on her neck. I _knew_ what that felt like…how she shuddered when I dragged my teeth roughly over the sweet spot right under her ear.

'_STOP IT!'_ I told myself firmly, trying to ignore the sounds of them somewhere in the kitchen. Rosalie's whisper…the small, low groan. Why couldn't _they_ be the ones to go away for the night? Why the private, invisible couple? Why not them?

I had to put a stop to it, though it was childish and infantile. I walked into the kitchen, coughing loudly. "Morning," I said with obvious disapproval.

Emmett tried to disentangle himself from his wife, but she refused. He had her up against the kitchen counter as she sat on it, her legs wrapped around him as they kissed.

"Morning!" he said, finally managing to pull himself away from her. He didn't even look sheepish. That was just who they were and if I was a sane, impartial bystander - I wouldn't really have cared. "How are you?"

What did he expect me to say? Fine? Wonderful? In good health? But no, it wasn't fair to snap at Emmett. So I shrugged politely and turned on the radio in the kitchen - the only possible thing any of us could want from such a room.

"Out all night again?" Rosalie's deceptively sweet purr came from behind me. Emmett was facing me now, leaning into Rosalie with his back. _So at ease with his treacherous wife_, I thought bitterly.

"Yes," I replied stonily. This wasn't how I wanted to talk to her, but she was giving me no choice. In fact, this had to be the first time she had spoken to me in days. Maybe weeks.

"See anything nice on your travels?"

I paused, fiddling with the FM button, searching for news of the weather. "Pardon?"

"Rose," Emmett said very softly. "Come on."

I turned around to see Emmett looking uncomfortable at the tension between us and Rosalie staring at me with dark, penetrating eyes that saw all the way through me.

'_Don't listen to her,'_ Emmett told me in his mind. _'She's just pissed about…well you know Rose. Always pissed about something.'_

"While you were out," she clarified unnecessarily. "See anything…_nice_?" The way she said that last word could not have been more far removed form anything associated with the meaning of 'nice'.

"Yes," I replied defiantly. "I did."

Her hands curled around Emmett's front,, her fingers tracing shapes over the material of his t-shirt. "In Forks?" she laughed. "I fail to see that."

"I don't blame you," I said with a shrug. "It must be hard for you to see anything outside of yourself."

Emmett rolled his eyes. It had been a while since we'd spoken like this, but was certainly nothing new. In fact, I was sure I had used that against her before - that exact line. Rosalie laughed softly, each note lined with subtle malice.

"Of course, not all of us are quite as…_observant_…as you, Edward."

"Hey guys!" Emmett chimed happily when Alice and Jasper entered the room. Somehow, everyone seemed to gravitate her in the morning, though it was a highly redundant room. This was where we gathered, before venturing back into the human world. "Have a good night?"

Alice smiled and nodded, but the trail of her thoughts were steeped into worry…uncertainty. About me.

Jasper glanced once at Rosalie then once at me and shook his head minutely. I knew how he felt about what was occurring. He looked back at Rosalie and a small, otherwise invisible exchange occurred between them. She smiled wryly and shook her head - a tiny fraction from one side to the other. Invisible to Alice and Emmett. Jasper's feelings turned slightly hostile towards me again. He had been feeling it for weeks now; I continued to ignore it.

Jasper and Emmett were discussing hunting plans, Alice and Rosalie immersed in the ideas of throwing a party for Esme's upcoming birthday, though they were equally distracted in thought. I was left out of the conversation, by simple default - not by plan. Five was a painfully uneven number. Only when of the group could split themselves in half did it mean that I could be involved. And it didn't look likely that she ever would again.

Something broke inside me while they stood there talking. I gave up, there and then. To hell with selflessness and nobility. I wasn't going to stay away from Bella Swan anymore. What was the point? I wasn't strong enough to do it, and there was no use in trying to salvage any hope that Rosalie would ever forgive me now. A heartbreaking, painful sort of freedom washed through me then. Regardless of what it meant, I decided that I could no longer maintain this cold façade with Bella.

So I would talk to her today…I could sit with her at lunch.

After all, who else did I have now to turn to?

* * *

_Author's Note: Hardest chapter I've written in this story by FAR. It took forever, almost killed me and I've only now come to like it because of plans I've made for future chapters. Sorry it took so long, I've been (and still am) pretty ill. I managed to fall off a skateboard while it was in motion and severly injure my knee, arms and wrists. I also have tonsilitis which is nothing new for me. I'm frequently ill. Oh well, more time to write. I'm just glad this chapter is done. I was NOT looking forward to writing Edward falling in love with Bella, knowing I'd have to make it genuine. Urgh. Anyway, onto the love giving. _

_I'm really so tired and ill, that I'm just going to list everyone and say how much I love you all, otherwise it's going to take me another hour to get this updated. Please accept all my love and gratitude, you're amazing, incedible people, Amber and Robyn in particular. _

_Amber, Robyn, Aceswild, Femme Teriyaki, CrAzCookyTash12, marieLONDON, narutoclaymorelove4eva, Koky, MayCullen, Ryoko05, Mia Arabella Malfoy, Maximista, VenusRising, luv4ed, swill12, xtinkerxbell08x, mjinaspen, MACgical, twiggy94, Elhayln, rachelm23, AmyA.W, tinuvielk and everyone else that I might have missed because I'm deliriously in pain ATM, but I love you all the same. _

_So now, how shall I beg for reviews? Is it dignified? Probably not, but I cannot care. REVIEWS!! Pity me, I need reviews!! I so need and love your reviews!_

_Anywho, thanks for reading so much. Sorry my shout-out's aren't longer, but I need to sleep and I want this posted before I pass out. _

_Thanks again, _

_x x x x x x_

_Bex_

_x x x x x x_


	27. Chapter 27: Gravity

**-Chapter Twenty Seven: Gravity-**

*

_Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
The best lack all conviction, while the worst  
Are full of passionate some revelation is at hand;  
Surely the Second Coming is at hand._

_-W. B. Yeats_

*

**-Rosalie-**

My fingers smashed down on the ivory keys, the piano taking my vicious instruction and playing the song with an anger that could only be fully illustrated in something written by Rachmaninoff. '_Prelude in C Minor'_ blasted through the room, echoed out of the hallways and through the house. I was going to break the beautiful instrument soon if I continued to play it like this, but what did I care? It wasn't _my_ piano.

I had almost doubled the tempo of the piece, adding irritable trills and flourishes without having even bothered to rake around to find the music sheets. I could play by ear; a gift I had always possessed, even before my immortality. It didn't help, though.

Nothing did.

Not music, or books or making love to my husband. Not prayers or denial or tearing at my hair in the throes of intolerable anguish. Nothing stopped me from feeling like this every single moment of the day and night.

I hit the notes harder, losing myself in the flawless, angry rhythm of the tempestuous piece. Nothing else seemed to sympathise well enough - nothing else soothed my soul by any fraction. I added minor notes where they should have been major; creating more sadness where there should have been glimmers of hope. I savagely took pride in that, not understanding why.

Only when I heard a dull '_ping' _and the echo of something snapping, did I stop. I had broken the G key. Good. I hit it a few times to make sure that it was well and truly broken. Dull tuneless echoes of what had previously been a beautiful note thudded out uselessly in accordance with my index finger.

"Compose a lullaby for her now," I sneered with breathtaking nastiness; such viciousness that would have given me goose-bumps were I anything less than immortal.

With a grimly satisfied flourish, I closed the top on the magnificent Steinway and pushed the velvet stool back underneath. Well aware of the childish nature of what I had done, I left the room and the damaged instrument, desperate to find another distraction…one that could sustain the force of my hands beneath it.

Only there was nothing. The raging turmoil within me had no outlet. Nothing legitimate. Nothing real.

It was a dark, gloomy day, pouring torrential rain. Greatly befitting of my mood. Then again, this was Forks. It could have been the happiest day of my life and still the rain would have come. The world did not revolve around me; the weather did not base it's decisions on a desire to complement my emotions. I passed the hallway window and lightning struck; monstrously jagged claws of raw electricity and energy. Accompanying it, only moments later, an enraged growl of thunder shouting it's anger into the greyness. Yet tomorrow everyone had said that it would be beautifully sunny. I didn't want that. I wanted the rain and the thunder, the darkness and the gloom. I wanted it to rain so hard that every living person in Forks was drowned in it. I wanted the world turned upside down and made to live in darkness. I didn't want sunny days.

I glared bitterly at the soon-to-be-treacherous weather and then turned away. My family were downstairs, talking about me or Edward…whoever had caused more trouble this week. I hadn't been paying attention enough to know who. I paused slightly, diminishing the sounds of my body so I could hear them.

Carlisle: "…knows the risks and consequences, as he has told us all before."

Esme: "Of course, no-one is saying otherwise. I think what Jasper is trying to point out is that there are other dangers beside exposure."

Alice: "We've been through this countless times. I can't keep saying it."

Jasper: "Not everything is set in stone, Alice. You know this better than anyone. Last week you thought she was going to become one of us."

Alice: "I still believe that. The timing is uncertain and the nature of the dispensation is unclear, that is all."

Emmett: "Did he say when he'd be back?"

Esme. "No."

Carlisle. "Where's Rose?"

Emmett: "Just leave her be for now. She's not in the best mood."

Esme: "She should be here though."

Alice: "So should Edward."

Jasper: "It's hard to have a logical conversation about Bella when he's here, though Alice, isn't it?"

Carlisle: "But it's his life."

Jasper: "It's ours too. He's risking so much being with her and every moment they're together, he risks even more."

Carlisle: "It's been over a week now and nothing bad has come to pass."

Emmett: "Except…uh, y'know."

Esme: "Rosalie and Edward have always fought. They'll come around eventually."

Emmett: "I've never seen them like this."

Jasper: "That's because Edward refuses to accept that Rosalie is right!"

Alice: "Jasper, you don't know that."

Jasper: "The hell I don't! She's just saying what we have all thought at some point or another…including Edward!"

Carlisle: "That doesn't mean it's the right thing to do."

Jasper: "Nor does _that_ necessarily mean it's not what needs to be done!"

Esme: "Jasper darling, calm down. No-one is in any immediate danger."

Jasper: "Yet."

Emmett: "I don't feel right talking about it when Edward's not here."

Alice: "Nor do I."

Jasper: "Fine. Let's wait and see how receptive he'll be when we calmly ask if he wants to discuss the fate of Bella Swan, shall we?"

Emmett: "Ooohh! He'll go crazy! Yeah, let's do that!"

Esme: "I don't think you'll get to fight with him, darling."

Emmett: "Will there never be a silver lining?"

Jasper: "I can see I'm going to be overruled. If Rosalie was here, she'd agree with me."

Alice: "You can't decide the fate of a person simply because you're threatened by them."

Jasper: "It's not that I'm threatened by her. It's that she threatens everything, simply by being with him! We don't know how trustworthy she is; Edward can't even read her mind to see that!"

Carlisle: "I wouldn't question her credibility if I were you."

Jasper: "Or what? He'll turn his back on us? He's already doing that!"

Alice: "Jasper!"

Emmett: "He wouldn't do that."

Jasper: "He's _doing_ it!"

Esme: "Falling in love doesn't mean turning your back on your family. It means making it bigger."

Emmett: "Sound OK to me, I guess. But uh…don't tell Rose I said that. I like having arms."

Jasper: "And you think he's just going to acclimate her into our way of life? Turn her into one of us? Take her hunting? He believes we're damned! He would never do that to her!"

Emmett: "So…what's he going to do then? Keep her human? That's kinda cruel."

Jasper: "Exactly!"

Carlisle: "Whatever we may think of it…ultimately, it is _his_ decision."

Alice: "_Exactly_."

Esme: "Poor Edward."

Crack! The frame of the banister I had been holding onto fractured and snapped beneath my fingers.

_Poor Edward? _

I couldn't listen anymore; though I was grateful for Jasper's loyalty (one of the few sources of comfort during this hellish time) I couldn't stand hearing them all voice what they really thought about the situation.

I struggled to recall ever feeling like this. Even in the beginning of my time with Edward, the developing years…they were nothing compared to this.

It had been nine days since Edward had left us at lunch and gone to sit with Bella Swan. A subtle, but meaningful declaration of loyalty. Then a few days later, he came back to us in a terrible rage. For one hopeful, costly moment - I actually thought he'd lost control and killed her. I could imagine it happening, especially if they kissed. I was even able to imagine it happening, because I genuinely thought she was dead.

But from the way he turned and looked at me, I knew otherwise. Instead, as it turned out, Bella had almost come under attack by group of men. Edward was in a trembling fury about it, insisting that we needed to go back there and rip them to pieces. Emmett had been massively in favour of this (for his own reasons, as well as Edward's), and it was only when Alice and Carlisle practically plastered themselves in front of the door, did anyone manage to calm Edward down enough to stop both of them from committing multiple murders.

The anger I felt towards him, ventured up a level. Though I couldn't quite articulate why, the idea of him saving Bella from what I had endured…it made me feel sick with something basically similar to jealousy, but far more violently complex.

I stayed with Esme that night, while Carlisle and Edward dealt with the offending leader of the gang; rendering him unconscious and leaving him outside the police station with a note attached to him. I hated Edward Cullen then so much that I thought I might lose my mind. He must have known it, and so refused to look at me from that day onwards any time other than when we were fighting.

Then he generously revealed to us the next day that he had been compelled to tell her everything. I could not have been more darkly thrilled. This was the excuse I had been waiting for. A real, justifiable reason to hate him and voice such hatred in front of everyone. We had the worst fight we had ever had in front of our family. Esme was reduced almost to tears by our sheer undiluted hostility. I struggled to recall what I said to him; all I could hear was what he'd said to me.

Carlisle had eventually intervened, warning us that if we ever spoke to each other like that again, there would be serious consequences.

We were left at a stalemate; Jasper and Emmett sided with me, Jasper more staunchly than Emmett really. For though Emmett was completely loyal to me, he didn't share the strength of my convictions.

Jasper's loyalty to me was one of the few reassurances I had left. Even going so far as to oppose Alice in the terrible fights that took place in our house, he stayed by my side, clearly displaying to Edward that he blamed _him _for what was occurring.

Which was pretty justifiable because what was actually occurring, wasn't just Edward falling in love with a nauseating little human…it was the disintegration of everything Edward and I had ever felt for one another.

I had never hated him this much, and it was evident from his actions that he hated me back. Even in my more rational moments, I couldn't deny that him loving this girl was anything less than the utmost betrayal. What was worse was that he refused to even speak to me about it. Hadn't I told him?

"… _I have to know what you feel. When you know, tell me…"_

But he hadn't even had the decency to tell me to my face that he was in love with that repellent wilting flower. No, instead I was locked out of his new life. A life in which there was only her. It made me sick in ways I hadn't even thought possible and I hated him so much it frightened me. Sometimes I thought of telling everyone about what we had been doing just because he would get blamed more than me. He would be sent away in disgrace, and for a while the idea of it made me happy, before it caught up to me how much pain I would cause the ones I loved, not least of all myself. It wasn't worth it - _he_ wasn't worth it.

It was somewhere around seven in the evening on the eleventh of March. I knelt like some sort of creature, possessed with astonishing resentment, listening to the conversation of my family.

But they were finished now. None but Jasper were comfortable talking about such subjects without Edward there. So they went about their various activities, existing as we immortals did. I stood up, prepared to find Emmett and engage in whatever methods of distraction he was willing to provide me with. But as it was, Jasper got to me first. He must have sensed me nearby.

"Rosalie," he said quietly, checking behind him minutely to see if the others were close by. Carlisle and Emmett were still discussing me in low, muted tones and Alice was cheering Esme up by talking about what she wanted for her birthday. "You were listening."

Of course I was. That was one of the many things I liked about Jasper. He wasn't patronising or condescending. He didn't ask if I was alright because he knew I wasn't.

"Yes, thank you for what you said."

He smiled wryly. "Don't mention it. Have you hunted? You look terrible."

"No. You?"

His eyes dropped a tiny bit before returning to mine. "Yes."

I nodded. "Anyone I know?"

"Yes, actually. Well…not anyone you know personally."

"Oh?"

I waited for him to tell me, but I figured it out before he spoke his indication.

"It was Edward's idea," he muttered quietly. "Sorry."

"Oh. That's alright. I really don't care." Lies. Of course I cared that Jasper had killed the men who almost attacked Bella. I quite liked the idea of them roaming the streets, lose and thirsty for revenge. Maybe coming across her home address by '_accident'_…maybe finding her unconscious somewhere in the streets, with a pretty bow wrapped around her…

"Ahem."

I brought myself back from increasingly dark longings and shrugged. "Sorry," I lied.

"Don't be sorry, just be careful," he said and we went upstairs together. He would stay with me until Emmett came to me. An odd little brotherly gesture. We shared more than just a name, though few would notice it. "I heard your playing, by the way. Not entirely subtle."

"Really not caring," I said honestly. "Let them think what they want."

"I wish you didn't mean that," he said, opening the door into library for me. It wasn't really a library, more like a room with two desks and every wall plastered with shelves and books. A large CD player in the corner with surround sound speakers. No-one ever just read books in here though, this was where people came to be alone with whoever they were with. For conversations or whatever else. The room was completely soundproofed. Something everyone had learned to install in at least one room in the house, years ago. "It would hurt you as much as him if they found out."

"I know."

He sat on the table, crossing his legs and reaching for a book off the nearest shelf. Yeats, again. He flicked through it distractedly; a polite way of splitting his attention to me, knowing that I didn't really appreciate such focused scrutiny when I felt like this. "And it wouldn't make anything better."

"What would?" I said bitterly, rifling through the hundreds of books on the clean, polished shelves. I loved the smell of these books. Some were Carlisle's, from when he had been human. They smelled of age and sawdust. We all contributed to this mass of literature; maybe two hundreds books each, it averaged out. I let my fingers trail over the rough bindings of the books, so few of them modern, glossy hardbacks. I eventually gave up and sat on the table besides Jasper, who kept his eyes and outward attention focused on his poems.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, neither one of us feeling the need to speak. Comfortable silence was hard to come by these days, and I wasn't going to waste it by speaking.

I felt him smile though and leaned over slightly to see what he was reading.

'_Were you but lying cold and dead,  
__And lights were paling out of the West,  
__You would come hither, and bend your head,  
__And I would lay my head on your breast;  
__And you would murmur tender words,  
__Forgiving me, because you were dead:  
__Nor would you rise and hasten away,  
__Though you have the will of wild birds,  
__But know your hair was bound and wound  
__About the stars and moon and sun:  
__O would, beloved, that you lay  
__Under the dock-leaves in the ground,  
__While lights were paling one by one.'_

"I forgot how much you like irony," I said quietly.

He shook his head. "I randomly opened it here."

"You randomly opened this book of some seventy poems and found the one called '_He Wishes His Beloved Were Dead'?_"

He shrugged. "Apparently I'm not the only one who likes irony."

I cracked an unwilling smile and nudged him with my shoulder. He nudged me back and continued reading.

"You know what I've been thinking?" I said, more because he would laugh at it more than anything else.

"Unless Edward is contagious, how would I?"

"I've been thinking that we should call truce."

He looked up from his books, amusement in his dark eyes, so very nearly red. "Oh?"

"Yes. We should call truce, be nice to Bella when he brings her here because eventually, he will."

"And…?"

"And then I was thinking, she could '_accidentally' _cut herself. And you could '_accidentally' _lose control of yourself and she could '_accidentally' _die."

He bit his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. "I see you've given this some thought."

"Well, it's not been on my mind or anything."

"Of course not."

"I've been more distracted by homework and things, y'know?"

"Certainly. I mean, it's not like Edward Cullen is the centric focal point of your universe, right?"

"Exactly."

We were both smiling now; dark smiles born out of humour that shouldn't have been funny, because it was so bleak. But we were intrinsically dark people. The darkest of all of us perhaps. We found things funny that no-one else would. The death of one Bella Swan, in particular.

"That's what I like about you two, you don't take anything personally," he went on, making a delicate mockery of everything I was feeling because he knew it would cheer me up. "Nothing too dramatic; everything logical and detached."

"Of course, who likes drama?"

"Exactly." He licked his finger and turned the page, I could hear the sharp edge of the paper moving over his rock-like skin. A human would have been cut. That was all it would take; for Bella to get a single cut…

"I swear half the poems in this book were written about you two," he sighed, turning yet another page.

"Him maybe, not me."

"Oh please."

"He's the one causing the drama," I went on, playing his little game because it was distracting.

He closed the book with a snap, cleared his throat and imitated Edward's voice perfectly.

"_Could you please not torture me by flouting your love with Emmett? Thanks." _He then went onto imitate my voice with an eerie precision. _"Could you please not watch her sleep, you pathetic excuse for a man?" _Then Edward… _"Actually, I'm going to go have lunch with her now. Wanna come?" _Then me… _"Sorry, I'm doing Emmett right now. Hack you into little pieces later?" _And Edward once more…_"Fine by me, just let me know when's the most dangerous time possible for us to meet up and have inappropriate hate sex."_

"Hate sex is never inappropriate."

"I'll jot that down next chance I get."

He put the book back where it was before we were in here; he sensed, as did I, that Emmett was coming. I felt a little more calm now, I hoped it wasn't only Jasper's gift.

"Hey babe," Emmett said with a smile as he came through the door, closing it behind him. "Hey Jazz."

"Hey," we said in unison.

"What grisly deaths were you two cooking up?" he joked, kissing me on the cheek, simply because he hadn't seen me in hours.

"The usual," Jasper said with a shrug. "Is he back yet?"

"He phoned," Emmett said reluctantly. "Something about…taking her out tomorrow."

"But it's going to be sunny tomorrow," Jasper pointed out.

"Apparently, he's taking her to the meadow."

I could sense Emmett's disinclination in telling me this, as much as Jasper could. He waited, wincing slightly, to see how I would react to this. Taking her to the meadow was a big deal; an induction into our lives, our world. I knew why he would take her there. I knew what he would show her. Himself.

"How romantic," I sniffed. "Nothing good on at the movies?"

Jasper grinned slightly. "Kinda risky, isn't it?"

"He'll be able to sense any humans around for miles."

"What about the Quileutes? Pretty close to their reservation, isn't it?"

"Not crossing the boundaries though." Emmett was still watching me.

I decided that it wasn't worth any more drama today. I put my hands out to Emmett and drew him close to me with a warm smile.

"You're beautiful," I said, completely throwing him off his current mindset. He blinked, surprised by my sudden change of mood. "And you're mine. What do I care if he's taking her to the meadow?"

We were well into absorbed stages of kissing when Jasper chuckled and said "At least you picked the sound proofed room," before closing the door behind him, leaving me with lingering traces of comfort and tranquillity - soon to be replaced by something else.

* * *

But I did care. How I wished that the world would carry on without him. How I wished I could dismiss him as a lost cause. The day would sweep over me; make me feel so strong, so justified in my wrathful indignation. I had my reasons for hating him. Then night would set in and all my bright, temporary reasons were obliterated. I would stare at the sky for hours, counting the stars, and realise that despite how much I did genuinely despise him…it didn't make a dent in what I _still_ felt for him.

I thought that thought with the cautiousness of a whisper; almost terrified to admit it to myself.

I cared so much that tomorrow he would take her to the meadow. What would he say to her? What would they do? How would he feel? How would she feel? Would he say it then? Tell her that he loved her? Probably.

I wanted to cry, but I had forbidden myself from ever doing so again. That, if nothing else, was born from the steeliest of resolution. I would never shed another tear for Edward Cullen. Not now, not ever again.

The night was perfectly beautiful. Cold, clear skies filled with broken diamonds spread across the inky blue permanence. I longed for it to stay like this for all time. Perpetual darkness; how wonderful.

I ignored the hundreds of sensations all around me; the gentle breath of the wind, the coldness, the feel of the roof beneath my back, the sounds of everything, the smell of the world as it slept. I just stared up at the sky, looking for answers that didn't exist - for solace that would never come.

Maybe it was because I was ignoring all my well ingrained senses, that I didn't sense his approach.

At first I thought it was Jasper or Emmett, coming to see if I was alright. Then the wind blew gently and I caught the taste of him in my mouth.

I stiffened, but didn't move. Why should I move for him?

There were a hundred bitterly ironic things he could have said to me then. We had a vast deal of past experience with roofs like this before, but his mind was obviously elsewhere because he said nothing of the sort.

"Can we talk?"

"I don't know," I shrugged casually. "We can scream, insult and destroy one another. Maybe we can talk as well."

"Shall I leave?"

"The country? The planet? Would you mind?"

He remained impervious to my sarcasm. "I won't keep you."

"I gathered as much."

I still had yet to turn and see him. From the oddly restricted tone of voice, it was clear that he was attempting neutrality. Which meant he had something to tell me; something I wouldn't like. A painful knife turned in what remained of my heart. Well, that wouldn't be anything new now would it?

"It's about…tomorrow."

I sat up then, not able to believe he was going to seriously attempt a conversation with me about this. "That's funny."

"No, it's not…"

"What? Did you want some pointers? Some advice on conversations that easily segway into things like '_Hey Bella, I know we've only been together for nine days, but did you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?'_"

He knelt down, a fair distance away from me, his eyes fixed on the tiles of the roof. "No. But I need you to know what I'm going to say to her."

I couldn't think of anything vile enough to say. I couldn't even hit him, knock him off the roof. I was rendered speechless by his declaration.

Finally, verbal communication became a possibility once more. "What, in all the depths of hell, would possess you to believe that I would ever _want_ to know a single word you say to that gormless, unsightly little child?"

"Please, just let me…"

"Why? Why are you doing this? Am I not in quite enough…haven't you….just leave. Leave now." I pulled my knees up close to my body, feeling myself starting to shake.

"Rosalie…"

"Don't you _dare_ say my name!" I spat, forcing myself not to look at him. "Leave me alone; practise your little discourse in front of a mirror or something. I'm sure Carlisle or Alice will be only too pleased to hear it, so they can adapt it into your wedding speech."

"I'm going to tell her I'm leaving."

I turned just a fraction, so he was in my peripheral vision. "What?"

"I'm going to take her to the meadow, tell her how I feel…but then tell her that I have to leave. Because I do have to leave, Rosalie. I can't stay here anymore."

My eyes narrowed as I weighed up what he told me. "You're lying," I finally discerned, coldly. "You'd never do that to her. You're so revoltingly in love with her, you'd chain yourself to hell's fireplace if that's where she was."

"Maybe. But I'm leaving nonetheless and that's what I'm going to say to her."

"Why?"

"I'm going to tell her that I can't bear the thought of losing control…of hurting her by accident. I'll show her how strong I am, how fast…maybe it'll actually scare some sense into her."

"You're leaving because of her?"

"That's what I'm going to say."

A small pause. I turned fractionally so I could fully see him, determinedly not looking at me. "Why are you really leaving?"

He laughed once; a bitter exhalation as he shook his head. "Why do you think?"

"I genuinely don't know. You've got her now, right? Why would you leave when you've got her?"

"I'm leaving because I can't take this anymore."

I looked away again, knowing where this was going. "So leave then."

He hadn't expected me to say that; it was clear from his silence. Though he could read my mind, he was trying not to and it made him blind to my feelings. He'd obviously expected me to beg him to stay. To delve into why he couldn't take it anymore. Why else would he come here?

"That's it?"

"Of course not. I'm sure Esme and Carlisle will beg you to stay. The others will be sad to see you leave; everyone will feel sorry for you. Driven away by your innate goodness. _Poor Edward_, after all."

"You don't care that I'm leaving?"

"I'm thrilled that you're leaving. Leave and don't come back. Go to Italy; enrage the Volturi if you can manage it."

Silence. I could hear the echo of my own cruelty in my mind; in the very air that we mechanically breathed.

"I see."

"Wonderful. Goodbye."

He stood up, walked away without another word and I - hating myself at an unprecedented level - wiped away tears that I promised myself I would never cry again.

* * *

I spent what was possibly the longest night of my life, alone. I felt cold in ways that had never touched me before; I wrapped myself in a sheer wool cardigan, I tied my hair up messily, I took off my shoes and walked on the roof, arms outstretched for unnecessary balance. Anything for any amount of distraction.

Hours passed and no-one came to see me. Undoubtedly by design, Edward or Emmett would have warned everyone else to leave me alone. I was well renowned for my temper; it was common knowledge within the Cullen family to leave me alone during such times.

So I stayed on the roof, nothing but the stars to keep me company.

Over and over my mind, I replayed the last words I had said to him. Cruel, spiteful words devoid of any genuine honesty. It wasn't wonderful at all and saying the word '_goodbye' _to him made me feel violently sick. Such vicious, consuming red hot emotions that ate away at the remnants of my soul…our soul. The further he pulled away and the more I pushed him, the more I could feel that soul stretched to breaking point. How far could it go before it broke apart; shattering magnificently into tiny pieces of lightless ruin?

Only as the night passed - precious irretrievable moments expiring before my eyes - did I come to realise that he was _leaving_. That soon, he would be gone. Gone for good, perhaps. Edward was going away and I wasn't going to see him anymore. He would be gone and I wouldn't be able to see him, even if it was only to hate him, to hit him, to scream at him. The idea of such absence spread slowly through me like poison…slowly reaching every part of me that was alive.

I sat on the edge, bare feet dangling over the side of the house and tried to remember how to breathe.

As much as I hated him, resented him, blamed him…the idea of him leaving did something to me. I could feel myself ripping in half; hot, sickly despair and sadness drowning me in unstoppable, increasing waves.

He couldn't leave. I could not let him leave.

I jumped off the roof effortlessly landing in a graceful position with catlike elegance. I closed my eyes and tried to sense where he was, where he would be. Nowhere near, as far as I could tell. I went towards the garage to see if he had taken his car. It was still there, shiny and silent; saying nothing of the damage we had inflicted upon it, our backs pressed against it in the rain, breaking it apart with the force of such desire.

I shook myself and tried to think where he would be.

But it was obvious, wasn't it?

Without another thought I went back into the house in search of my cars keys. I threw off the cardigan, pulled on a pair of boots and found them. I listened for a moment, trying to sense what the rest of my family was doing. Laughter and sounds of the TV; watching a movie, perhaps. No-one would question where I was if Emmett had told them to leave me alone. They were happier without Edward and I; the more melodramatic pair of the family. A light heartedness was audible in the laughter and soft chatter. Thankfully my guilt tolerance was already beyond it's limits.

I got in the car and put it in neutral, letting it roll out of the garage silently and down the small hill that led to the road. Once I was far enough away, I rammed the ignition on and reached 80KMPH within the next three seconds. I never took my foot off the accelerator, slicing through the night at an incredible speed. I vaguely knew where the house was, Charlie Swan had lived there for years.

When I drew near, I stopped the car and got out. He was close…I knew without taste, sight or sound that he was close by. That part of me inside that _was_ him, simply knew it.

This was where I had to shove back any seconds thoughts, because they were screaming at me not to do this. _…Let him go, it's for the best, better this way, easier, quit while you're ahead…_

I ignored it completely, silently approaching the Swan residence with all the silence and dexterity I could manage. I made it past the last row of trees, finally able to see the actual house when I heard his voice, low and menacing from behind me.

"Why are you here?"

His voice was dangerous; animalistic. The sound of a threatened animal, baring it's teeth and growling. Of course, he would interpret my presence here as owing to hostility aimed towards his precious little Bella.

"I'm not here for her," I breathed, willing him to see in my mind that it was true. I was frozen, terrified to turn around and see the way he would be looking at me.

"Oh?"

"I'm here for you."

"You're lying."

"Read my mind."

"I'd rather not."

"Don't be stupid, I'm telling the truth!"

"I don't care. I don't want you near her."

And I remembered how angry I still was with him; how much I still hated him, how much he had hurt me, and still did. It took every component of my willpower not to snarl at him that such a desire was notably reciprocal. But I wasn't here for that. I was going to attempt rationality; reason, maybe even some sanity.

"Fine, let's go somewhere else."

"No."

"Please."

"I said no."

"Oh Christ, just this one time…can you not do the polar opposite of everything I ask? Can we just be on the same page for once in this Goddamned existence?"

"Why? You made your feelings perfectly…"

"If you knew anything about the way that I felt, we wouldn't be here!"

"I can't do this, Rose. Whatever you've come here to do or say…I just can't. There's too much already. I can't cope with whatever you're about to lay on me."

"I know. That's why I've come." It felt strange, saying all this into the darkness…his face nowhere in my line of sight, though he was just behind me. "I understand that you don't want me near her. My car is two hundred yards away. We can go and talk, far from her."

"I don't want to talk."

"Yes, you do."

"I can't."

"You owe me that much."

A long, heavy pause before his abrupt response. "Fine."

I moved so I could see him in the blackness. Our eyes met and I felt the familiar stab of treacherous electricity bolting through me…indifferent to the dilemmas we were currently facing. He looked down quickly and I indicated in which direction the car was. We walked, far apart, towards it and away from an unknowing Bella Swan.

"You drive," he said quietly, as we reached my beautiful, gleaming car.

"No," I said, stopping a few feet short. "I can't drive in silence with you until we reach somewhere appropriate. I need you to hear what I have to say, right now."

His eyes flashed, angry at my deception. Maybe angrier at himself for not seeing it coming. "This isn't the place!"

"And where is? The beach? I don't want there to be some special place where we go to do…whatever's about to happen! I need you to know….you can't leave!"

We stood on either side of my car; the colour of his eyes was visible to me in the moonlight. His skin, lips, eyes…all illuminated in ghostly, milky light.

"You want me to leave. It's for the best." He said it like he was convincing himself, more than me. I could see his fists at his sides, tightly balled together.

"No. If you leave…I can't even begin to say what it will do to me."

His jaw clenched. "I have to."

"I won't let you."

He fractionally blinked; of a reflex to what was coming next. "You hate me."

I took a breath, kept my eyes on him. "Yes, I do. I hate you for what you've done. I hate you for falling in love with someone else…"

"She's not just someone else!" he snapped straight away; swift in his defence of the girl he so loved.

"She's not _me_!"

"You love Emmett!"

"But it is NOTHING compared to you!"

Now he looked hurt, uncertain even. "You….you don't mean that."

"I do. I wish I didn't because he is such a better man that you. He's perfect; I love him so much and he makes me so happy…but it does not even compare to what I feel for you!"

"You're lying!"

"What do I have to gain by lying? I know I've…lost you," I choked. "But you can't leave."

"Just stop it! I can't take this…I can't take _you _anymore! You have destroyed who I am…I don't even know what I was before you, and I won't live like this any longer!"

"I've destroyed _you?_ What do you think you've done to me?"

"Which is why I have to leave!"

"No, you're leaving because you're scared!"

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of trying! Scared of facing up to what you've done and what you now have to do to make right!"

"I can never make it right!"

"You can try!"

"I can't…look at what I've done to you….to us! Nothing I do could ever…but if I leave, that has to make it better," he said fiercely, again more to himself than me.

"No," I promised quickly, desperate to operate within his fleeting uncertainty. "All you'll do is destroy what's left of our family and leave me without the other half of _who I am_!"

"Then what do I do? Tell me! Tell me what do I do to make this right again?"

His hands lifted to clutch at his hair, despair surrounding him as I tore at the plan he'd so shoddily constructed to make everything '_All Better'_. I could see he was close to breaking down again, and I hated the world for giving us this…and never letting us truly _have_ it. The price, the cost…the gravity of everything. Inescapable, inevitable. I hated that he had to turn to someone else to find any measure of happiness. I hated that we had to betray the ones we loved because there was no other way to be together…and being together was never optional. I hated the way that I was making him feel now…I hated him and myself and everything about us.

But I had never loved him more and I would never understand why.

Two long strides around the car and I was in front of him, promising myself that I wouldn't touch him.

"Look at me," I said, my hands aching to do what I had just forbidden myself from doing. "_Look at me!_" Unwillingly, he opened his eyes and my breath caught with the sheer and utter amount of desolation in them. "You can't leave because you _can't_ leave! Even if it's only to hate you…I need you here with me. There isn't life without you…nothing exists…you can't leave!"

"You can't stop me!"

"I can and I will!"

"How?" I steeled myself and he gasped; bright eyes rounding in disbelief that I would sink so low as to keep him there. "You wouldn't!"

"If you leave, I _will_ kill her."

"You…"

"If you leave me…us…I'll have no reason not to kill her. I'll blame her for you leaving and then you'll come back, even if it is only to kill me in return!"

"You're insane!"

"No, _you're_ insane if you think you can just walk away from all of this!"

"How can I stay? Tell me how!"

"You stay and you endure what I have always endured! Guilt!"

"It's not the same…I love her in such a different…"

"-which, by the way, is the first time you have deigned to _tell me_ that you love her!"

His eyes darkened. "You want me to tell you that, huh Rose? You want to hear all about it?"

"I need to hear about! How dare you not tell me?"

"I didn't want to make it worse for you!"

"Liar! You were scared that I'd ruin your new infatuation! Scared that I'd destroy your delicate little ray of sunshine!"

He averted his darkening eyes from me and I knew I was right. "Let me go," he breathed; his throat so constricted I was amazed he could even speak.

Two tears rolled down my cheek, mocking my resolution. "I wish I could."

He grabbed the top of my arms suddenly, shaking me hard. "You think I want this? You think I _want_ to feel like this?"

"You need her, I can see that now!"

He shook me harder, anger cutting into his words. "No! You think I want this with _you_? I never had a choice! This was never something I chose!"

"But you're choosing her? Over me?"

"Why shouldn't I? She's everything that you're not! Kind, unselfish, warm, honest, gentle, loving…_good_!" I could see the moonlight reflecting in the trails of his tears, running down his cheeks. "Why shouldn't I choose her over you?"

"BECAUSE SHE'LL NEVER LOVE YOU LIKE I DO!"

"YOU **DON'T **LOVE ME!"

"HOW CAN I NOT LOVE YOU? I _**AM**_YOU!"

He pushed me away roughly and put his hands to his face, wiping away the tears. "It's not the same."

"Why?" I gasped, trembling so hard it shook the timbre of my words. "Because I never say it to you? Is that it? I don't say it?"

"No. That's not it!"

"Then what is it? Tell me what I need to you to prove this to you!" I cried, more tears running down my own cheeks. He looked up at the sky, shaking his head.

"Nothing!" He kept his back to me, maybe afraid - like I was - that looking into my eyes would undo everything he felt, all his righteous convictions. "Alright? I know how you feel! Jesus Christ, I _know_ how you feel, Rosalie! You think I don't feel the same and worse?"

"But you're leaving."

"I'm leaving because I can't betray you," he said, his usually flawless voice fractured by tears and sobs. "I'm so in love with her…she makes me feel like I could be a good person. She makes me feel so happy, Rose…so happy. But you think I'm betraying you. I can't change the way you feel, and I won't betray seventy years of the deepest, most dysfunctional, incredible connection. I can't see you live with it, I can't bear to hurt you, even if it costs me that happiness. That's why I'm leaving."

His voice, broken and unadorned, gave out and silence followed his revelation. It seemed too obvious now; all my petty, brutal jealousy seemed so painfully excessive. Well, most of it.

"Edward," I breathed, because I knew he would turn if I said his name. "Please. You can't leave me."

"I have to."

"No. Stay."

"How?"

I could say it. What was one more sacrifice, if it meant he remained here?

"Be with her."

His face softened in the light of genuine confusion. "What?"

I swallowed, hard and closed my mind to him as quietly as possible. "You love her, so be with her. If she makes you happy…then stay with her. Here. I won't….be able to accept it straight away, but I won't make your life hell because of it."

His mouth formed a tight line; he didn't believe me. "Christ, Rose! You can't possibly think I'm that stupid!"

"I'm not lying!" I lied. "I didn't see before…I didn't know you loved her. It didn't make sense to me, why you'd choose some girl over me that you didn't even love. But I understand now. You love her, she makes you happy."

Edward's face was so full of emotions, it was unreadable. I couldn't detect a single, clear one from the cavalcade. Finally, he came closer to me - self loathing became patent in his heavenly features.

"And this is what I've reduced you to?"

"Don't be so egotistic!" I warned, dangerously close to losing my resolution. "I'm making this decision for myself!"

He put his hand to my face, wet with tears, and his eyes burned into me. Such blazing, angry intensity; determined to scope out the lie in my promises.

"You're lying," he whispered, but it wasn't set in stone. He wasn't sure.

"No," I said, determinedly wiping away more tears. "This is what I want."

"You're saying you _want_ me to be with Bella?" he voiced, disbelievingly.

"I'm saying I want you to stay. To stay you have to be with her; she makes you happy. You love her, so you have to stay. Sh-she can give you things I can't. Make you happy in ways we never were. You can love each other and be happy. Like I am with Emmett, you see? I want you to be happy; I know I've made you so unhappy in past years and I want for you to have that goodness that I have with him. I know I'm selfish and unkind, that's why I hated you." My hand moved to his hair, stopping itself just fractionally in time before I touched it. I swallowed again and tried to continue. "You deserve so much happiness. So much joy and love. I wish…I wish I could give that to you, but I can't. And that's my failure, not yours. My inability to realise what I had, while I could have had it. My loss. I love you so much, Edward. There will never be words for it. Never."

He was crying now; not just silent tears. I couldn't stand it; sweeping away yet another broken promise, I took him in my arms, holding him tight. He cried into my shoulder, as we encircled one another, whispering things that made sense to no-one else on the planet, but us, and it would useless to relate them.

When we finally drew apart, I smoothed his hair back from his face, damp with tears and swallowed a large lump in my throat, preparing myself again to lie in a way that he wouldn't be able to detect.

"It's no different from me and Emmett, not really. I'm struggling with it because it's new, but I want you to be happy and most of all…I need you to stay. You can't leave, you just can't. So if that's what you need to do in order to stay…then love her. Take her to the meadow tomorrow…tell her whatever you want, but don't leave her. Let her see who you are…let it make you happy. You so deserve to be happy, darling. You need some light in your life, the same as I do."

"Don't," he begged me, his face crumbling before mine. "Don't…"

"Shhhh," I soothed, barely able to keep my voice from trembling. "Remember the promise we made? _Not time, or love or obligation. _I know you love her and it doesn't change what's between us."

I waited then, terrified because this was the moment when he might tell me otherwise; tell me that actually, it _did_ change everything. That our promises were invalid…meaningless, in the light of his new, tangible happiness.

I waited…achingly cold moments passing, each with their own individual shadows of uncertainty. He looked right down into me; it was hard to focus on the fact that there was a world outside of him…us. Even harder to realise that it was currently breaking apart.

"Knowing that is all that keeps me sane," he whispered, closing his eyes and tracing his thumb down my cheek, rubbing the tears into my cold skin. "Sometimes I say it to myself, like a prayer."

I breathed again. How apt; a travesty of religion indeed. I turned my face slightly to the side, so his thumb brushed against my lips. I kissed it gently, hearing his throat stick.

"We can do this," I breathed, bringing my own hands up to gently hold his hands. I remembered the last time I had touched him; so vicious and demanding, gripping his hands tightly. My gestures were the antithesis of such merciless trappings now. "We can do this."

He leaned into me, shifting slightly so we were closer than was probably advisable in such extreme circumstances. "I love the way you lie to me."

"I love the way you know everything that goes through my mind, but try to ignore it."

"I love the way you take care of me, even though I'm a bastard."

"I love the way your strange little 'abused child' mentality confuses the way I treat you with kindness."

"I love the way you hurt me to show me that whatever you said before or after, is genuine."

"I love the way you cry."

"I love _you_."

I laughed gently; a bitter sort of sigh. "I love you…more than anyone will ever know."

I didn't realise that we had been dancing. Swaying gently together in close bodies rhythm to the same non-existent music, floating in both our minds. When we drew back slightly to see one another, he smiled. A smile that I didn't want because I knew, to some unknown extent, it meant '_goodbye', for now.'_

"And this is what you want?" he reaffirmed. "You want me to stay…and be with Bella?"

Before I could change my mind, I nodded and smiled back, hoping that my smile was a little stronger than his.

"Yes. I know that in time, I'll come to accept it. Whatever you choose…I'll accept it."

He looked at me with undiluted wonder, as if all the terrible, great secrets to the universe were in my eyes…just out of reach. "My Rose, so determined."

Maybe I could attempt humour. "It's not like we can say 'wrong place - wrong time' and hope to meet in the next life, is it?"

He laughed gently, still moving to the rhythm only we could hear. Dancing on the side of the road, beneath the pre-dawn sky, and I swore to any God that existed…I could feel my heart beating.

"No. We'll just have to get it right in this one, I guess."

"We've made quite a mess, haven't we?"

"Yes."

I hesitated, horribly unsure of how to phrase my next question. "An irreversible mess?"

Eyes locked together, he whispered his answer. "What do you think?"

"You know what I think."

He sighed and ran his hand through my hair, gazing at my head with a small smile. "No. You're a mystery."

"I think you need to decide how you feel."

"I think you need to stop placing such heavy emphasis on my feelings."

"Yes, because since when do we drawn our lives around emotions?"

"I mean," he clarified gently. "That your feelings matter too."

I refused to look away from him, too much enjoying the familiar feeling of being wholly consumed by something wonderful. "But I'm not the one in love with a human."

His face turned slightly more sober. "I don't know if I can betray her."

That hurt; I worked hard to hide it. "You need to…think about that. It took me years to get used to it. I'm still not really used to it, even now."

"I guess. We're no strangers to guilt, you and I."

His nose brushed mine, and I though he was going to kiss me, but he didn't. We just kept dancing, like any two lovers. I tried to think of things to say that would magically fix everything, but nothing existed in such a limited language.

"You know what you are?" I murmured against his neck.

"I'm not the champagne, right?"

"No," I said, _feeling_ his smile even though I wasn't looking at it. "You're gravity."

"Oh? Ladle me with beautiful metaphors then, Miss Hale," he murmured, undoubtedly as hopeful as I was that distracting, meaningless banter would ameliorate the painful gap now firmly between us.

"You're everything that pulls me down. Constant, unstoppable and lethal if I go too high. But when I jump…it's amazing. You pull me down, never let me go. You're gravity."

"And what are you?"

"Messed up."

He drew back, smoothing my hair away; a small frown between his brows.

"Never," he said in a low, strong tone. "Ever believe that. If anyone is messed up here, it's the one hundred and four year old immortal who has fallen inappropriately in love with his food."

I smiled instead of laughing, trying to get used to him saying it and appreciate his forced mockery of a situation which, I knew, was cataclysmically significant.

"I love how you make the most serious, devastating things into something ridiculous."

"It is ridiculous, we're just too dramatic to realise it."

"You've been talking to Jasper."

He laughed and nuzzled my hair. "How could you tell?"

"He's not fond of drama."

"I noticed."

We stayed there for as long as possible, saying nothing really except small, bittersweet ridicules of a situation which had come close to breaking up apart.

But I knew with some formidable certainty, as we danced alone to silent music, that it would take more than this…more than Bella Swan…to break what was between us. Not time, love, death, obligation. As we turned together, I dared God himself to come down and try to destroy what we had.

One soul in two bodies…what did it matter if the two bodies were forced to live alternate lives?

He left; returning to become the unsolicited sentinel, watching her sleep.

And I, broken in ways I that might never heal, went back to our home to smile and lie to our family, enforcing the idea that everything would somehow work itself out.

The truth that choked me all the way home, as I drove with death wish recklessness, was that no matter how much I lied…I couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't.

* * *

_Author's Note: A few things before I launch into the MASSIVE list of shout-outs and love giving. _

_1) I have shamelessly tinkered with the anatomical laws of Meyer's vampires; primarily, the idea of tears. According to what little research I could find, her vampires can't bleed or cry (ahem, but apparently can make babies) but I rewrote this vague little law. I hope it doesn't shatter anyone's canon. Stuff like that irritates me, so I thought I'd put that out there. _

_2) I've been calling the 'yard' a 'garden'. Again, as I've said before, I'm British. I do this sometimes without realising it, because in my head - they're all British. This was only recently pointed out to me by the amazing Amber. Normally, I can get away with it because of the slightly antiquated way in which they speak, but if anything is seriously wrong, please let me know. _

_3) The next chapter will be predominantly Bella/Edward. I know, I know. But I'm going to throw myself into it, so this chapter was really me indulging in some Rosalie/Edward, until I've established the love between the other two. _

_4) I am feeling much better now, thanks to everyone who wished me well. It worked, and I wrote a new chapter. Pretty quickly too, by my reckoning. It took longer to edit than it did to write it. _

_5) The way I've skipped over, but kinda described, certain events that took place…this is how it's going to be in some chapters. In order to cover four books worth of events (and finish this fic before the Olympics get here) this is how it has to be done. The next chapter will more thoroughly cover the missing Edward/Bella scenes, including what he was REALLY thinking about the men who attacked Bella and why he was so angry. But, like I said, in order to get upto and then past 'BD' I need to skim over some stuff with recollect accounts, like at the beginning of this chapter. _

_6) This_….."Could you please not torture me by flouting your love with Emmett? Thanks." He then went onto imitate my voice with an eerie precision. "Could you please not watch her sleep, you pathetic excuse for a man?" Then Edward… "Actually, I'm going to go have lunch with her now. Wanna come?" Then me… "Sorry, I'm doing Emmett right now. Hack you into little pieces later?" And Edward once more…"Fine by me, just let me know when's the most dangerous time possible for us to meet up and have inappropriate hate sex_."……….was adapted from a fantastic review, by the lovely Femme Teriyaki. Thanks honey!_

_So, I think that's it. _

_Shout outs:_

_Amber and Robyn - you rock my world, you angels of inspiration and wonder. _

_Aceswild, Femme Teriyaki, CrAzCookyTash12, marieLONDON, narutoclaymorelove4eva, Koky, MayCullen, ufmary, , JayJ1, It-Ended-At-3, lie4eva, MaddieVanDerWoodsen, Schmelly Inc, Ryoko05, Mia Arabella Malfoy, Maximista, VenusRising, luv4ed, swill12, xtinkerxbell08x, mjinaspen, MACgical, twiggy94, Elhayln, rachelm23, AmyA.W, tinuvielk and yes…others that I can't find on the review board because I'm partially watching 'Jurassic Park' (my ALL TIME favourite film….and now you've lost faith in me) as a reward. You guys….your reviews mean so much to me, really. Thank you all ENDLESSLY. You're beautiful, amazing people. _

_More up soon…love you all. _

_x x x x x x x x_

_Bex_

_x x x x x x x x_


	28. Chapter 28: Achluophilia vs Eosophilia

**- Chapter Twenty Eight: Achluophilia vs. Eosophilia- **

*

_'I remember how you left in the morning at daybreak,  
So silent you stole from my bed,  
To go back to the one who possesses your soul  
And I back to the life that I dread.  
So__ I ran like the wind to the water,  
Please don't leave me again I cried,  
And I threw bitter tears at the ocean,  
But all that came back was the tide.'_

-Sarah McLachlan

*

-**Edward-**

A thousand thoughts per second and each one hated the other. A thousand contradictions, but they were all true. A thousand ideas, each as impossible as the last…but each one filled with the utmost ambition for fruition. My mind was a maze within a maze and each way out was guarded by riddles and sacrifices. Every second of my existence was filled with a thousand thoughts - individual strains that led back to their own roots, none of them collaborative. Tumultuous conflict, raging in a place where there should have been a century's worth of inner peace.

The last two weeks had taken what little sanity I held onto, and torn it apart.

Once, I had looked down at humans for the way they lived their lives. So wrapped up in each other, so hideously involved in hopeless situations…wasting what little time they had on this planet by destroying each other with terrible choices and betrayals. I had sneered at them as a species, for missing the meaning of life - as I knew it - for ignoring the aesthetic beauty all around them and instead focusing on their messy, unskilled intimacies and relationships. I had listened to their minds, so hopelessly lost; not a single thought worth hearing, and I had dismissed them as a lost cause.

But now I realised I had become one of them…because I was in love with one of them.

If I was any kind of decent being, all my thoughts would have been about Bella Swan. Each of the thousand thoughts would have been filled with her. My mind would have at least been _loyally _chaotic. _Wholly _absorbed. But no. Even in madness, I was still a treacherous creature, if not by choice.

The opposing thoughts stemmed from two very different people; one human, one less so.

Even I, mercurial creature that I was, had to concede that seventy years was a lot to turn my back on so suddenly.

I tried to focus, in the days leading up to that night, only on Bella. For it was easy to love her. So easy. Even though I was battling the hungry monster inside me - always so ready to take the life of the girl I loved - it was no battle compared to the other. In some ways, I threw myself into the conflict of blood desire; much more straightforward than anything _else_.

I loved her, but I wanted her blood. Clear-cut, ironic and poetic enough to meet the requirements of such a complex creature.

That would suffice very well as the main 'trouble' in my life. For I did not want to find myself battling with the other force within. The part of me that wasn't Edward Cullen. The part of me that was something (or some_one_) else. An element made up of two beings. Two halves of a whole, split by deception and lies; necessary, but devastating.

I couldn't even begin to contemplate fighting the inevitability of that, so I chose the cowardly way and ignored it. I let all attention pour onto my lovely Bella and I found happiness in such a simple gesture that I could hardly believe it.

Bella was swiftly taking over my world and I wanted to let her have it. Let her take something I had destroyed and hope that she might rebuild it for me. I was a willing participant in what was, I suspected, mutual obsession. For though I strived to remain gentlemanly, I could not help but notice how she stared at me. How the rhythm of her delicate heartbeat altered when I came too close to her during our strange little Q&A sessions. It was so different to anything I'd felt before, though I was certainly no stranger to obsession. This was wholly different; it wasn't a dark obsession, quite the opposite. In fact, though I was aware of the blatant cliché of such a metaphor, colouring them separately as light and dark was really the most accurate way of putting it.

And though she was taking over my world, and though I was genuinely happy for the first time in far too long…I was fighting it.

That part of me fought against it with everything it had. I knew to Bella, it must come across as some strange form of self loathing - hating myself for the involuntary bloodlust she stirred inside me. In reality, it wasn't. Something inside was furious at me for falling in love with her.

'_Traitor,'_ it whispered to me when I let it have a voice.

I knew, also, that to some extent I must appear to have a split personality. Maybe I did and it was showing. I loved her, but it was a struggle. The struggle was showing, more and more but I knew it was starting fading. Soon I would be so in love with her that it would give up. The struggle would cease and it would become this irrevocable thing…gone too far to call back, too far to stop.

Complexity and confusion were not something I was new to. I had always embraced the fact that I was preposterously complicated, even before my ascension to immortality. I had never tried to pretend that I would be able to arrange myself, _know_ myself. There was too much inside of me, and that only grew over time. Unlike the rest of humanity, I had resigned myself to the fact that I would always be confused by who I was. The more I learned, the more this increased. But I had build foundations amidst such chaos, nonetheless. There were fundamental pillars that supported the messy being that I was. Strange, ritualistic little beliefs really. Metaphors about myself, the uncontrolled connection with Rosalie, the world, life…everything. An idiosyncratic brand of religion with roots in little musings and philosophies I had created throughout my existence.

But that was smashed to pieces now. All my world turned upside down, all the foundations cracked and ruined…the shape of everything, myself included, altered irretrievably. That was what Bella Swan had done to me. She had changed _me_ and therefore…everything.

So I quite simply gave up. I was in command of so little; what point was there in trying to gain control, when it was never mine to begin with?

"Jesus Christ!" I muttered to myself. "Get a grip!"

I tried to shake myself from the deepening reverie that I knew, given the chance, would gladly swallow me whole and never let me see the light of another day.

Rosalie had not been long parted from me; her scent still clung to every particle of my clothing, her voice still rung in my ears, her tears still fresh on my fingertips. I watched Bella sleep, determined as ever to protect her from unnamed dangers and harms that might befall her, were I not there as her (questionable, debatable) guardian. But even in this, my loyalty was split. Watching her while she slept, delicacy and loveliness incarnate…still my thoughts treacherously leaned into the events that had occurred not ten minutes ago. I didn't blame my mind for trying to lose itself. It was almost impossible to hang onto any remaining threads of sanity; distant and fine, spun like spider webs and just as frail.

The only link, in fact, was a few feet from me, fast asleep.

God, I loved her. It hit me sometimes right in the solar plexus - the full weight of my feelings for her. I loved her so much it made my chest ache. I was utterly obsessed with her…and not just her safety, though it was still my main priority. Her life seemed to balance on a knife's edge. Humans lived perilous lives; always on the brink of death, never looking where they walked when their bones were nothing but breakable twigs in the face of death. She was certainly no exception.

But it wasn't just that. I had fallen in love with her, without having the slightest idea as to why. Only now I was starting to see it. I knew _why_ I loved her. I knew what it was about her that I loved and how it affected me.

It was that was she was so….good. Innately, helplessly good. It radiated out of her like the purest, freshest light and I was drawn to it so completely. It touched everything about her; even her anger was tainted by such inherent radiance. It came from her eyes, her smile, her frail body…the things she said, her intelligence, her weaknesses, her self doubt…everything was illuminated completely.

And I, one half of the darkest pair ever to exist within the immortal race, was blinded by it. She was addictive; more so than blood. More so than physical contact. Being with her, just talking to her, was like standing in the warmest rays of sun, hand picked by the most beautiful stereotype of God.

There were other reasons, of course. I wasn't just addicted to her loveliness and goodness. I loved her because she was selfless. Because she was kind and because she suffered fools. Because she was insecure. Generous. Loyal. Unsure of herself. Brave. Brave because she would gladly risk her life to spend one more minute with me and as much as I pretended that it frightened me, I was overwhelmed by it. I had never been loved like this; never been the legitimate centre of someone's universe.

And I was selfish. I wanted it so badly that I was willing to overlook the obscene risk I was putting her in. All of my family, the ones I loved…all at risk for my indulgence.

The other thoughts, however, were a different shade entirely.

Every thought about Rosalie was tinged with a dark, velvety texture. Hot, sweet and longing for pleasure - cold, bitter and broken with desperate jealousy. The jealousy that always made me want her more; the need, the craving, the terrifying level of understanding and the fact that no matter how much she might drive me insane…there would never be another creature in existence that knew me so well - because, of course, she _was_ me. The fact that we were in separate bodies was more of a cruel punishment; imposed upon us because, if joined, we might explode and take the universe with us. Rosalie was brutal, dark, suffocating…raw, lethal ecstasy. Wordless completion at an unimaginable cost.

Light and dark…battling for dominion in my inner self.

But I had been good, once. I knew what choice to make, even if half of me screamed in protest. I knew what kind of love would make me happy and what kind would destroy me. I knew what would give me sanity and self-possession…when the other kind offered madness and chaos.

The choice was painfully obvious to everyone, even Rosalie.

But my mind refused to accept it.

Constant, unending thoughts raged within me creating such turmoil and uproar that I almost wished I could sleep. I rarely wished for this, dreading what dreams would be bestowed upon me. During such a time, however, I experienced a reversal of many thoughts and feelings; the least of which was the idea of sleep.

There had to be an end to such insanity. There were limits to how far something could be bent and pushed until it reached a breaking point…and then it had to be fixed or discarded.

Sometimes I forgot why we involved Emmett in the first place…but during times like these, I remembered all too well.

We were too raw, too pure and too much for anything this world could handle. This brittle, fragile world we had built around ourselves to conceal what we really were, it required something that would soften the blows of our passion, the force of our connection…the sheer explosive nature of our intimacy. We needed Emmett, because he made everything a little more tolerable. A kind, loving intermediate - the unknowing equaliser of all things between us.

I tried to imagine Bella as the same thing. For really, in many ways she was. She was my own personal source of happiness, when I wasn't busily torturing myself over the bloodlust I felt.

But again, I was deceiving myself.

I loved her _in spite_ of what I felt for Rosalie. Not because of it. I loved her because…well, there were no _real _reasons. Maybe that was the way it should be. Senseless, oblivious, unthinking love.

She turned slightly, her body beginning to sense the dawn. Soon she would be awake, a few minutes before her alarm clock alerted her to the new day. Always the same, always awake before the alarm. Though that night, her sleep was unnaturally deep. She had taken some sort of pills. I could smell it on her lips, not that I had gotten that close to her. My senses were just deeply attuned to her now. Maybe she'd had trouble sleeping. I glanced around the room and saw some CD cases by the stereo. _Chopin_. Oh, Rosalie would just _love_ that. Again, I forced myself to stay on track with Bella. Why did my mind want to continue delving into the dark, deep chasm that Rosalie had carved into me? It was ridiculous, especially when Bella was so lovely…made me so happy, even despite the inner turmoil she unwittingly created.

Today was almost an historical event, except that I had no idea how it would turn out. Taking her to the meadow meant a plethora of important, significant things…all of which I wanted to ignore.

By the time the darkness was melting away to be replaced by the beautiful, warm day, I was already leaving (only to change clothes and return straight away). I watched the exchange…the bargaining of domination between the night and day - dark and light. I wondered, as I went home to prepare for the day ahead, which one I preferred.

But I dismissed it quickly, because mingled in the subtext of such a concept, was a question I didn't want to answer. A question, that if answered, carried a finality with it that might have cost me what little sanity I clung to.

* * *

Frustration and nervousness, like so many other pitiful human emotions, were not something I thought I would have to fall prey to ever again. Had I not long dismissed such stupidity and attained some measure of control? Was I not above boyish jealousy, petty frustration and trivial worries?

Apparently not.

After lingering outside her house much longer than necessary, trying to figure out just how exactly my mind was going to function, I finally managed to calm myself down enough to go to her front door and knocked quietly.

I could hear her rushing down the stairs with rash eagerness and I winced, imagining her tumbling down the stairs, breaking her fragile neck. The door swung open and there she was all. Absolutely beautiful, even more so because she had that look about her. I knew she hadn't long been parted from sleep; it showed in her eyes.

"Good morning," I said.

She sensed the slight amusement in my voice and gave herself a worried once over. "What's wrong?"

"We match." This was true. I'd selected this outfit, particularly bright and non-threatening, for my own purposes. She was dressed in similar tones.

She laughed with me, though I sensed a hint of something else beneath it. I didn't have a clue what it was, of course. Her mind remained fixed in it's defences; an immovable stone wall against my gift.

The happiness had already flooded through me upon first sight of her. Her loveliness overtook me and I was a little less in control than I would have liked.

I remembered, grimly, than I had promised that she could drive that awful truck to the meadow. She gave me a smug look, reminding me unnecessarily of the promise I'd made in order to entice her into this outing.

Once inside, I insisted she wear her seat belt - unnecessarily voicing my unusual, confusing nervousness. Shouldn't I be beyond all this? After some directions and some playful, but very reserved banter (the automatic comparisons to _everything_ concerning Rosalie were not helping) we reached the place where we needed to park in order to take the rest of the journey and I heard a note of concern in her soft, compelling voice.

"We're hiking?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No." She wasn't a good liar at all.

I hadn't considered this. Though I knew she was a magnet for all things disastrous, it hadn't factored into my thinking that maybe hiking wasn't such a good idea for her. Yet another oversight on my part.

"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry." My hollow reassurances did not seem to touch her; she remained concerned, lost in a world of worries that were inaudible and invisible to me. I wished so much to be able to hear her talking to me in her mind, like….

Stop it. There was NOTHING to be gained from such incessant comparisons. I swore to myself that this was the last time, and threw myself into focusing on Bella.

But as I did, I caught scent of her again and it was particularly difficult to maintain such a steady stream of pure, innocent thoughts. I imagined stopping the car, pulling over and leaning across to touch her…tell her how much I loved her before sinking my teeth into that soft, warm, inviting neck…losing myself in the heavenly velvet, silken liquid that would flow through and eradicate all worry, all tension, all insanity. The taste, the flow…the rhythm of her heart….and she would forgive me before she died because she loved me too.

This was more dangerous than I had originally thought. For the first time I genuinely saw Jasper's point of view. He _was_ thinking of me, really. He somehow knew what I wanted better than I did and I had clearly over estimated my strength.

Or maybe not. Maybe I could do this. Yes, I could. Talk to her…distract myself from the terrible, bloodthirsty daydream.

"What are you thinking about?"

The alteration in the rhythm of her heart told me she was lying. "Just thinking about where we're going." Maybe she was scared; finally a little survival instinct. Perhaps she sensed the essence of my thoughts and was frightened into silence.

"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." I lied as well. For though that was technically true, it was made a lie by the massive omissions. I knew that today I would have to tell her a lot, but I also knew with unbreakable certainty that I was going to omit a mass of background information and - at some points - flat out lie. The meadow had great significance to me, but I was ignoring that. Blocking it out - pretending all this was new to me. Trying to live a new life; emphasis on the word _new_.

"Charlie said it would be warm today."

That was good. Talking about her father, who loved her so much…would be so devastated if she died. "And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" I held out little hope here; Bella was deeply private, I couldn't imagine her opening up to her father about something like this.

"Nope." So blasé about a move that could cost her everything; most importantly her life. It was alright though because her ghastly friend Jessica knew she was with me. More motivation to keep her alive…stay strong.

"But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?"

"No, I told her you cancelled on me - which is true."

Did the girl have no desire to live?

I couldn't stop the anger seeping into my voice. "No-one knows you're with me?"

She really couldn't seem to muster up any concern whatsoever. I had to give her serious credit for bravery, even if it tore at my last nerve. The monster inside, ever present, smiled a terrible smile and licked it's lips over sharp, demon teeth; so pleased at such convenience. "That depends," she said calmly. "I assume you told Alice?"

Now she was being flippant about her much debatable mortality. "That's very helpful, Bella." No reply to that so I pressed on, furious at her for tempting a part of me that did sorely not need to be tempted. "Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?"

"You said it might cause trouble for you…us being together publicly."

I was genuinely angry at her now for being so ridiculously giving, when she should have been wary…I wasn't used to such selflessness and though I was aware that I wasn't exactly impartial (but I was NOT thinking about it) _this_ kind of complete altruism couldn't have been normal. Surely she had to think of herself some time?

"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause _me _- if _you _don't come _home_?" I snapped. She refused to look at me and I muttered under my breath, inaudible to her human ears "Make it a little bit easier, why don't you?"

By the time we were there, after spending the remainder of the drive in silence, I had calmed down considerably. I was stronger than I gave myself credit for; I knew that much. If I could resist her before, I could resist her now. And I _loved her_. I didn't want to kill her…far from it.

The journey there was strange. We would touch every so often and she would flinch away, undoubtedly from the cold. And I would remember why I hated God so much, for making me like this. I blamed God, of course, _never_ Carlisle. Carlisle who was so much more important to me than any God that might exist. Regardless, I hated how I must repel her. How icy and repugnant I must feel to her warm, supple skin. While we walked, I asked more questions. Mainly to keep my mind on _her_ and maintaining a means of distraction for us both. She hadn't lied about being a terrible hiker and I wanted to keep her mind on something else, other than her intense, if very endearing, clumsiness.

It took an extremely long time to get where we need to be, but I was patient, enjoying her company. I loved watching her move, the way she walked, trod and often - fell. I loved each warm little exhalation and the way she blinked. I loved _her_…so much that I could feel it in my chest, curling around other emotions and setting them ablaze with the golden warmth that she exuded.

The closer we got, the more nervous I became. Though it wouldn't show externally (certainly not to a human), I was plagued by small, unfamiliar insecurities. Suddenly unsure of myself, of my plan to show her exactly what I was. It seemed silly now, stupid really. What if she laughed at me? What if she was repelled? Terrified?

When we arrived, I heard her gasp in gentle wonder at the natural beauty of such a place. It was stunning; the height of nature at it's more breathtaking and magical. She walked ahead of me, out into the blazing sun, for once untouched by clouds. I was deeply uncertain now; maybe this had been a bad idea, like so many others.

But she smiled at me and held out her hand.

And of course, I went towards her.

* * *

I was trying, and failing, to recall ever feeling like this. A hundred or so years of sleepless, endless existence had given me a plethora of knowledge for comparison with almost everything. I knew so much, had felt and experienced so much…but this was different. It was like everything was new with her…untouched. I could even make myself forget, at least for a while.

She was touching my hand; cautious and hesitant, but it felt incredible. Such a small, almost innocent gesture…it was sublime.

"I don't scare you?" I asked teasingly, because I knew she wasn't or if she was, she certainly wasn't scared enough. It would have been good if she was, but she wasn't. The hesitation was born of other concerns; other emotions.

"No more than usual."

I smiled, laying back on the grass. I was very aware of her, intensely so. I felt her scoot closer to me, probably hoping that I wouldn't notice. I felt her fingers begin to shake slightly. She wanted to touch more of me….I was grateful that I was a self possessed creature.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

"No. You can't imagine how that feels."

Now she was touching my arm, her fingers trailing over it…and I was losing my self possession. It clearly _wasn't _a gift of mine. I turned my hand over, but it was too fast and it startled her.

'_Too relaxed, Edward,'_ my inner self scolded. _'Get it together!'_

"Sorry. It's too easy to be myself with you." She lifted my hand with almost childlike curiosity and stared closely at it. Painfully shut out of her mind, I had to ask "Tell me what you're thinking. It's still so strange for me, not knowing."

She rolled her eyes a little. "You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."

"It's a hard life. But you didn't tell me."

"I was wishing I could know what _you_ were thinking…"

"And?"

"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I wasn't afraid."

Only she wasn't afraid enough. She would never be, otherwise she wouldn't be here, rapidly becoming the centre of a creature's universe…a creature that could so easily kill her…that was about to lie so flawlessly to her when she finally got around to asking the necessary questions.

"I don't want you to be afraid." Another lie, but it would reassure her.

"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to think about," she said calmly. Too calmly. I knew she'd heard a different meaning in my words like she normally did. So perceptive. Why was everyone so damned well perceptive?

I sat up quickly; too quickly again. It jolted her, and she flinched a little. I would have to work on this. She made me feel too relaxed - so at ease, but being myself around her would have bad consequences…the best case scenario being that I frightened her.

"What are you afraid of then?" I whispered.

She was so close now…way too close. What was I doing? This was bad…wrong…going to end very badly. My mouth watered and my throat screamed angrily at me for such lengthy denial. My mind overflowed with perfectly reasonable excuses to kill her. The desire was overwhelming, not even just bloodlust. I was taken aback by how badly I wanted to kiss her.

And in the end, it was a small voice in the back of my head saying something so painful and terrifying that it brought me to my feet and away from her in one abrupt, ripping movement.

She whispered to me, told me how sorry she was. _She_ was sorry? Dear God, what was wrong with this girl? As if it was her fault that I had no control over my desires?

She looked so hurt by it, as if it was a personal thing against her. "Give me a moment," I said, trying with all my strength to remember that I loved this girl.

But, the small voice hissed at me, that was what was wrong!

I shoved it away, fiercely determined to ignore it. I waited a little while, a few seconds to her, before going back with strengthened resolution. I wouldn't hurt her…I'd die before hurting her and each and every part of me would just have to get used to that.

I smiled at her, already deciding how to phrase it. "I am so very sorry. Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?"

She nodded at me and I could taste the adrenaline pumping through her blood, only sweetening it. I laughed at myself bitterly.

"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in - my voice, my face, even my _smell_. As if I need any of that!"

I would show her…make her see how dangerous I was.

I ran. "As if you could outrun me."

I ripped a branch from a tree and hurled it at another effortlessly. "As if you could fight me off."

And now she was really afraid. I'd done what I set out to do - frighten her. This was me, who I was…or at least a part of who I was. She had to see it…had to know that it existed and I wasn't just making it up to fend her off. But no sooner had I accomplished this, than I wanted her strange, blasé fearlessness back again.

"Don't be afraid. I promise…I _swear_ not to hurt you. Don't be afraid. Please forgive me. I _can _control myself. You caught me off guard. But I'm on my best behaviour now. I'm not thirsty today, honestly."

I winked at her because it would belittle the danger and it worked; she laughed a little. I was so glad to hear it again. So impossibly happy (in a twisted, odd way) that she hadn't run away the moment she saw how dangerous I could be.

And again, I was taken aback by just how much I adored her. "Are you alright?" I asked lovingly, reaching out to touch her hand. If only I could make her understand… "So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?"

"I honestly can't remember."

We talked some more; more about my frustration. I tried to be candid about it, knowing that soon I was going to lie considerably. I told her of my struggle; the battle between love and hunger. For the first time I could see an actual difference between the two. The more we talked, the more I was forced to remind her that it wasn't a good thing that I was obsessed with her…that I couldn't stay away from her.

But this was all a very good distraction from those thoughts in the back of my mind. Let her think such internal battles were only circulating around the moral conflict of her frail little existence. That was much simpler to explain.

I tried to explain to her how tempting she was, I used an interesting metaphor and I couldn't help but notice she was hanging on my every word. It was disconcerting, being stared at like that. Too much intimacy, too close, too warm…but I was strong. I continued with the reasonably accurate metaphor.

We spoke of Emmett and his past experience with such a person, though it hardly compared I knew it would give her some perspective and it kept the subject firmly on the idea of my struggle not to kill her. As if that was the _only _struggle here.

Then of that terrible first day I'd met her. She was eager for reassurances here, positive that I'd hated her. And I was eager, so eager, to make her feel better.

When the details continued to that fateful day I'd saved her life, I was starting to lie. Or, more accurately, omit information. It was easier than I thought; just like giving her a clean, uncomplicated version. I even managed to say Rosalie's name without my voice hitching.

When I told her what it would do to me if I ever hurt her, it was no word of a lie. The following line, however, created a strange ache in my chest. "You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."

It was happening faster than I liked….there was little control in what was occurring now. I couldn't help it; I just couldn't.

The words wanted to tumble out of my mouth…and I _could_ say them and they would fully describe everything I was feeling. I could tell her I loved her and it would be this amazing thing….it would sew everything together, create this blissful happiness…

But I realised, when I blinked and lost sight of her for the smallest amount of time, that I couldn't say it. Though there was no treachery in such a declaration (how many times had Rosalie said it to Emmett?) it got stuck in my throat. I _couldn't_ say it.

So instead, I said the next poetic little metaphor that came to mind.

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb."

She replied to it and I answered her, mechanically…but my mind was far away and I needed it to come back.

The conversation continued now, only a dull pain resided in my chest. The more we talked, the more it faded away. She remained determined to find out the particulars of any potential intimacy between us. Tentatively, I touched her neck and eventually, put my face to it…testing myself and the limits of my self control. I was pleased when I was able to reign myself in and enjoy the sensation more than being smothered by the desire to kill her for it. The sound of her heartbeat was breathtaking…I felt altered by it, each and every precious thump making me fall deeper in love with her than ever before.

We spoke more about it; more about my self control and she was still determined to push boundaries.

It began to get dark and I decided to show her how I travelled through the forest (which would consequently save us a good few hours of her atrocious attempts at hiking). However, this resulted in her feeling distinctly ill. I noted not to attempt this again; obviously not a thing to share with humans.

And then there was a moment when I just sort of gave up. All the self control in the world wasn't any good if I couldn't _try_. I so desperately wanted to kiss her that it was making me edgy. I knew it was going to happen now.

I realised in the moment before it, that I had never kissed anyone else. In some ways, I could feel my heart breaking. In others, I rejoiced. Bittersweet was an understatement.

But then I was kissing her and it was….incredible. The warmth, the gentle softness and then…her reaction. I wasn't prepared for her to throw herself into it like that and I began to react to it all too fast. Determined, I pushed her away gently.

Back at the truck, I refused to let her drive. She had become extremely faint after kissing me and it was a perfectly good excuse to keep her away from the wheel of such a death trap. Standing there with her, I so wished I was able to tell her how much I loved her. But I couldn't. Instead I just enjoyed being close to her…being with her.

Strange, to still be nervous.

I knew I had absolutely no reason to be nervous but I was. Painfully so.

Of course, to Bella it wouldn't appear so. I would appear as I always did to her; masterfully in control of my emotions (unless there was blood work involved) and completely graceful. Even on my off days I knew (by listening in on the thoughts of those watching me) that I was catlike, poised, smooth. I never blinked or stuttered, never said something I didn't mean to. Perhaps it was that I had more time than they did; ten seconds for every one of theirs. I had learned years ago how to move like them, talk like them. It meant that I could be very calm and cool, even when I felt ridiculously nervous.

"Are you not affected at all?" she asked, clearly annoyed by the fact that I wasn't going to allow her to drive her own truck. "By my presence?"

Of course she didn't see it. If she did, she would know what a bag of nerves I really was. How torn apart, how terrified I was. She wouldn't ask me that if she knew. But my flawless exterior façade remained impervious to her substantial perception. I leant down close to her, amazed at myself for being able to do so without wanting to rip her apart so much as before. I was going to kiss her again, I knew it…but then no. Something stopped me and instead I pressed my lips to her jaw, feather light and moved them across towards her ear.

I thought I might have to hold her up, she clutched at my arms and made an odd, little choking sound. I drew back, smirking.

"Regardless, I have better reflexes," I said, and scooted her safely inside her rusty old truck. Her fingers interlinked with my own once I started the engine and I felt it again - slight, unnecessary apprehension. I was light-headed and my chest was fluttery - all new sensations to me. Ridiculous to be subject to such schoolboy emotions when I was over a century old.

A few minutes into driving (especially careful, considering the prehistoric origins of her vehicle) I realised I had a song stuck in my head and it wasn't something I wanted to be hearing. Why _Debussy_? Why now of all times was that stupid _Reverie_ song stuck in my head? A song that linked directly with….

I fiddled around with the radio, finally settling on some oldies station. All songs I would know, all songs I could hum along to in order to shove the _other_ song right out of my subconscious.

I heard her small intake of breath; prelude to a question no doubt. She still had a lot of questions, not that I blamed her.

"You like fifties music?"

I liked anything when it was leading me away cursed memories and unwanted thoughts. But I answered politely anyway, steering away from the truth as always. "Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!. The eighties were bearable."

"Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" she asked carefully.

I had been waiting for this. "Does it matter?"

She grimaced slightly, disappointed by the lack of revelation. I was toying, of course. I still fully intended to tell her almost anything she was wanted to know. Some of it would even be the truth. "No, but I still wonder…there's nothing like an unsolved mystery to keep you up at night."

Somehow, I was hesitant to reveal this. I was paranoid about what road it would lead down, but such questions were inevitable. She was going to ask and I was going to tell her a _version_ of the truth. For this, I was well and truly prepared. I had been preparing such lies for many days now.

"I wonder if it will upset you," I stalled uselessly.

"Try me." Bravely determined, as always. I looked into her eyes for some semblance of meaning…some miraculous revelation. But all I saw was love and bravery. She loved me, she would do her best not to react when I told her. I sighed and began.

"I was born in Chicago in1901. Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza. I don't remember it well - it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade." I paused, tasting the sensation of lying to her again. This was only a small lie…of course I remembered. I remembered far too much, far too well. The taste was bitter, like sour blood. But tolerable. '_For Her Own Good_' I drilled into my psyche. So I went on. "I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget."

A tiny, tiny flaw in her voice when she asked "Your parents?"

"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone."

"How did he… save you?"

A question I didn't want to answer with any depth. Certainly not in any illustrative manner, considering the intensity of our emotions together. I didn't want Bella to know the particulars of such a method of transformation.

"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us… I don't think you could find his equal throughout all of history. For me, it was merely very, very painful."

She nodded, clearly desperate to know more, but sensing my reluctance to exemplify such details. I knew what would come next, now. I could feel her building up to it. So I decided to initiate it, rather than have her ask me.

"He acted from loneliness. That's usually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle's family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating."

She bit her lip, pondering what I was telling her. "So you must be dying, then, to become…"

Thankfully, she had never actually used the word 'vampire'. We so rarely used it, and she had miraculously cottoned on to the fact that it was a term we generally disliked.

"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice. It is easier he says, though, if the blood is weak."

I knew what was coming; I could feel it. Though I had spoken Rosalie's name in front of Bella, I knew this was going to hurt in an entirely new way.

"And Emmett and Rosalie?"

Just hearing her say the name caused in involuntary, but thankfully imperceptible, shiver throughout my body. I suppressed it and went on with my brisk, totally convincing 'truths'. I knew how to handle this…yes, I could do this.

"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next." I already knew I couldn't bring myself to say a single word about the means of her demise - I had gone through enough trying to contain it the night that Bella had almost come under a similar attack. "I didn't realize till much later that he was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him - he was careful with his thoughts around me." I casually rolled my eyes, as if the thought was amusing. A part of me laughed darkly at myself for being able to lie so easily - another part of me hated it. "But she was never more than a sister." There…I'd said it. Though it wrenched my being apart, brought a foul taste into my mouth….I'd said it. "It was only two years later that she found Emmett." Yes, focus on Emmett. That was good. "She was hunting - we were in Appalachia at the time - and found a bear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I'm only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her." So much omitted…so much left out. It was barely even a skeleton of the truth, but it would suffice perfectly well. I reached out and touched her cheek, suddenly desperate to feel her warmth again after speaking (more accurately lying) about Rosalie.

"But she made it," she pressed on.

"Yes," I murmured, wishing she would now just let _that _go. "She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school." I managed to laugh, as if it was_ amusing_ to ponder such things apparently so wholly unconnected to me. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years, _again_."

That had hurt more than I anticipated. Lying _to Bella_ wasn't as hard as I'd originally thought it would be. Lying _about Rosalie_ was an entirely different story. She was so ingrained upon me…sewn into the fabric of my being, that to lie about it was a jarring, nasty experience. Like denying that Carlisle was inherently good…or Esme a loving mother.

I hoped she would move on now, and was relieved when she did. She asked questions about Alice and Jasper; a subject I was more than happy to prattle on about until her interested touched other areas. More of our kind, Alice's mysterious background…until her stomach growled and I realised she must have been starving. Again, yet another human issue to adjust to.

Which was the first time I properly thought of it like that. That I would adjust, because this was it now. There was no going back any more.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I'm keeping you from dinner."

She denied her bodily instincts, clearly more in favour of staying with me. The feeling was entirely mutual. "I'm fine, really."

I sighed at my beautiful little martyr; fascinated by such deep, unstoppable goodness. Goodness that put her life in such awful risk. "I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget."

Her eyes widened and I knew she was starting to fret about the idea of my leaving. "I want to stay with you."

'_You should say no!' _that voice insisted, doing it's best to get me back to some level of familiar ground. _'Tell her no, but you'll see her tomorrow. Isn't that good enough for you?'_

But it wasn't good enough. I didn't want to leave her; I didn't want to step out of the warm glowing rays that she cast upon me. I didn't want to leave this person who loved me so much and who I loved in return. If I left, maybe what I felt for her would cool and distil…and I would lose it forever.

"Can't I come in?"

She blinked, obviously surprised. The voice inside my head turned away in disgust at my weakness, speaking of broken loyalty and intolerable stupidity. "Would you like to?" The idea seemed to throw her off, massively.

"Yes," I replied, getting out of the car and going around the other side to open the door for her. "If it's alright."

She smiled at me. "Very human."

I shrugged. "It's definitely resurfacing."

Which really was no word of a lie.

* * *

I knew what it was now. I was becoming the creatures that I had watched from a distance…the things I envied, sneered at…was secretly jealous of. I was becoming more human. I also knew what Rosalie would say on the matter, without even having to think about it.

"_Dulling your edges," _she would say. _"From a dagger to a butter knife."_

And it was true. The more time I spent with Bella, talking and talking endlessly…the more I felt myself becoming more human. I was less concerned with the beautiful, untouchable things. I cared less about theology, about God or damnation. The world seemed very much alright the way it was, and I was so completely wrapped up in Bella, that everything seemed so determinedly…fine.

It was very innocent. Little things, like my hiding away when her father returned and the gentle teasing when I revealed that I had watched her sleep for many night prior to this one. I had been so nervous about telling her that, but she didn't really mind so much except that she was concerned with what I had overheard. This was all hopelessly endearing; the more we connected, the more I fell in love.

While she was downstairs eating her lasagne (an adorable little tremble in her voice) I looked around her room. Though I had come inside a few times, it felt nice to be here with an invitation for once. It smelled of her; the soft luminescence of her warm human skin clinging to everything. Her bed - a piece of furniture I had memorised well - particularly held her delicious, inviting scent. Without really knowing why, I laid on it, enjoying the pleasure of knowing that this was where her soft body rested every night. Downstairs, I could hear every amusing word she was saying; her voice fraught with impatience to return to me, but to keep this from her father.

She rushed through her food and then came into her room, rushing over to the window and throwing it wide open for me.

"Edward?" she whispered, still a little frantic.

"Yes?" I laughed softly in the darkness and she gasped, turning around. "I'm sorry."

She put her hand to her heart; I had frightened her, but in a…good way? If such a thing was even possible. "Just give me a minute to restart my heart."

I sat up slowly and with gentle intent, put her firmly down on the bed beside me, listening carefully to the sound of her heart. The rhythm stuttered in the wake of fear and adrenaline. Every part of me loved it, though I tried to make it a light, healthy sensation. Not something that revelled in the quickening of her heartbeat because it knew the blood would taste all the more sweet.

"Why don't you sit with me," I said, determined for it to back down and let my love for her win over. "How's the heart?"

"You tell me. I'm sure you hear it better than I do."

More slight teasing and she ran to the bathroom for what she called a _'human minute'_. I heard her showering and tried to focus on everything in the room but the sounds of the water hitting her body like that.

When she returned, after cleverly reassuring her suspicious father that she was hardly sneaking out in pyjamas with wet hair, I realised I was painfully relieved to have her back with me. I had missed her. A lot.

Of course she looked _impossibly_ beautiful. Hair still dripping slightly, all fresh and washed…her skin radiating that scent. "Nice," I said. She grimaced at that and I was quick to reassure her. "No, it looks good on you."

I wondered, with a sudden sense of fleeting panic, if I even knew what I was doing. For though nothing could have been further from the truth to say I was any kind of novice, I felt incredibly incompetent around her. Like all my knowledge and experience was meaningless. Of course, that might have been something to do with the fact that my knowledge and experience was all tailored around someone very much _else_. And I was blocking that out now…so in a small way, I was a little bit of a amateur . The insecurity touched me lightly, and began to spread.

I also realised that this was a good thing, to some extent. It would make lying to her that much easier. If I felt nervous, surely I would _seem_ nervous and I should seem nervous. Officially, I had never been with anyone except Bella. Officially, my first and only kiss in over a hundred years had been today.

But then most of my life had been unofficial. Yes, the nerves would make it easier to lie. Though I felt guilty about it, I knew I was doing the right thing. Bella's insecurity ran deep through her being; telling her that I had been (and when being truthful…was _still_) involved with Rosalie would crush her. I couldn't do that to her. The lies were painfully necessary, as they had always been. Only now I had so much to lose.

And when I told her this, in less obvious wording, it was easier than before. Running my fingertips so gently over her heavenly skin, telling her that I was pleasantly surprised I could make her feel like this…it was easy. I was a little shaken by just how easy it was. When I said things like "…first love…" the words flowed with a flawless ease, managing to convince myself for a few moments.

We spoke of jealousy, of my increasingly human traits and I kept finding perfectly simple ways of touching her. She was mesmerising to me and I was so drawn into her face, her softness that I didn't see yet another misstep before I fell over it.

But honestly," she teased me and because I couldn't read her mind, I was utterly unprepared for it. "For that to bother you, after I have to hear that Rosalie

- Rosalie, the incarnation of pure beauty, _Rosalie _- was meant for you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete with that?"

I bit down the reaction before it even formed and I tried to shut the damned voice up in my head which was starting to seriously resemble someone _else_. But it was suddenly too difficult to train my face into complete honesty. I pulled her to my chest, so she couldn't see me and I held her close while I lied impeccably.

"There's no competition," I said, and closed my eyes tight, looking blindly upwards. She didn't really move and I heard the resentment creep into her voice.

"I _know _there's no competition," she mumbled into my skin, her warm breath ghosting over it in an intensely pleasurable way. "That's the problem."

I would have to lie better than this. Outright, irreversible lies. Still I kept her close to my body so she couldn't look into my telltale eyes while I said what was necessary.

"Of course Rosalie _is _beautiful in her way, but even if she wasn't like a sister to

me, even if Emmett didn't belong with her, she could never have one tenth, no,

one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me."

After that, the intimacy increased slightly. I knew she was reassured very little, but it sufficed. We spoke more, she had more questions of course. For though I constantly thought how she had turned my world upside down, it only just occurred to me how much I must be turning her world upside down. Literally. She now knew of a world within a world….immortal creatures. One of which was currently lounging on her bed with her.

When she began to get tired, she made me promise I would leave her. I knew that promise went far beyond me being there in the morning when she woke up. She was on the brink of falling asleep, when she posed one final question. I should have know that with Bella, she would have saved the most awkward, yet all-important question for last.

She wanted to know the _full _extent of just how physical intimate we could be.

This stunned me. Not being able to see into her mind, I was always fighting in the dark…but this. This was unexpected. I was obviously having an effect on her. Yet it wasn't just this shock that induced the silence (to her, it would only be a moment). The voice reared up from wherever it had gone, furiously sulking in the wake of my resurged optimism, and made it very clear that if _that_ were to happen…it would be a despicable betrayal.

"I don't think that… that… would be possible for us."

The disappointment was clearly drawn all over her face. "Because it would be too hard for you, if I were that…close?"

I tried to explain how fragile she was to me; how breakable. I kept my mind on that as the main reason. Her safety…nothing more. Though there was another, thudding angry reason forbidding me from contemplating such a thing. This, whatever it was…innocent, love-struck, blissful happiness…it could just about tolerate that. But _that_…that was a different story.

And while I curled my arms around her carefully, so happy to be able to hold her while she slept, I felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Rosalie all of a sudden. If this was even a tenth of how she felt with Emmett, then I had no idea how she did it.

Maybe I would ask her, if she ever spoke to me again.

While Bella slept in my arms, I tried to examine some of the feelings that were now calming down enough to withstand scrutiny. It was much the same as I'd previously thought. A strange, uneven balance struck between the two halves of my life. One dark, one light. In the end, I knew I would tip the scales in one direction or another. It seemed inevitable that it would lean towards Bella…my pillar of all things light and good.

But without the other side…without the opposing force….without Rose…the scales would fall, crash and never get off the ground.

I knew, as I held the girl I loved, that regardless of whatever had occurred today or whatever would happen tomorrow, Rosalie was not someone I could simply cut out of my life. She had bled into me years ago, become a part of me too long before ever knowing Bella even existed. She would always be there and I would always be a part of her…if she could do _this _with Emmett, have her happiness with him, then why couldn't I have it with Bella?

And for a small while, I actually believed it would be that simple.

* * *

Strange, returning to my own home again after such a powerful breakthrough into a world I had never known. Maybe I expected everything to look different…to feel completely different. Maybe I expected the world to have fallen off it's axis, while my own spun in a remarkably different direction.

But everything was exactly the same. The smells, the shades of the soft tinted walls. The beautiful, ornate art…the familiarity, the warmth, the unbreakable love and above all the _sounds_ of being home. It was as if I had never been away. Nothing seemed to have altered. Nothing but me.

An illusion that was broken the moment I heard the inner thoughts of my brother, Jasper.

I had returned home to change my clothes, hoping not to run into anyone. But of course, that would have been too easy. I knew I ought to be grateful, having been spared the painful irony of bumping into Rosalie. Yet still, I winced a little before waiting to see what he had to say to me.

He came through the double doors from the lounge, his eyes catching mine immediately with a relentless hold. I felt nothing from him; no swaying anger, no increased calm. But his eyes spoke volumes, even louder than his dark, somewhat dangerous mind.

"Back so soon?" he whispered in the pre-dawn darkness. No lights were turned on in the hallway. I had hoped to come and go without event; fate obviously had other plans for me. I sensed the others were in the back part of the house, the beautiful terrace outside at the bottom of the yard. I had helped Esme plant roses there, while she hummed to herself, pausing now and then to touch me in some significant, affectionate way. Ruffle my hair, stroke my cheek…always constant reassurances that I was loved and adored by her. Her first son, one of many now. The memory was bittersweet; a taste in my mouth I was coming to associate with change.

"I just came to change my clothes," I said simply, but I didn't attempt to sweep past him. Something in the way he stood told me he had more to say. "You expected me to move in with her?"

He shrugged elegantly. I was reminded powerfully of Rosalie. They had odd little mannerisms, so very similar. Like real twins, only no blood connection lay between them. He would smile like she did sometimes and I would shudder that such beautiful creatures could smile like that…twist their mouths into such a travesty of beauty. They smiled like that when they were angry or upset. Very rarely did I see Jasper do this, but when I did…I would automatically look to Rosalie and recall the way her mouth did the exact same thing. He smiled that smile at me now.

"Perhaps. Who can predict what stupidity you'll succumb to next, Edward?"

I shook my head angrily. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to hear whatever ill-advised diatribe you're about to launch at me."

"No time?" he mused: his voice was serrated ice…daggers of broke glass. His anger laced every nuance of his tone, though it would be undetectable to most. "Why would that be? Can't you bear to be away from her too long?"

"Like I said," I managed to say in a determinedly calm tone. "I can't stay."

I made as if to walk past him, to where I needed to go but then I felt a massive onslaught of serenity hit me right in the chest. A powerful, dizzying warmth that made me think there was no reason to go. I could hear him out…hostility wasn't necessary.

"Don't you dare!" I spat, furious at the violation. I tried to shake myself from it, but it was powerful. I'd never felt such force behind his gift before. It wasn't just compelling…it was controlling. He refused to relinquish my stare and his hold upon me.

"Surely you can take a little time from her," he whispered, only a few feet from me. "She won't forget how to breathe if you're not there when she wakes up."

"I _will_ be there when she wakes!" I growled, my anger breaking through the laden tranquillity like fire through fog. "And nothing you nor anyone else says to me will stop that!"

"Oh I see," he said quietly. "It's like that, is it?"

I felt the coercion drop…the command of his power lessen and my free will returned to me fully. "Don't ever do that again!" I threatened him.

"Or what?" he challenged, raising his chin to me defiantly. "I've seen more years than you, killed more than you could even imagine…our kind and _hers_. You think I'm afraid of you because you can read my mind? I could render you powerless with a thought! Shut down your defences in the blink of an eye! Don't be so stupid as to threaten me!"

Though Jasper and I had had more than our fair share of unpleasant confrontations in the past, he had never spoken to me like this. It shook me.

"And this is all for what? Rosalie? You love her that much that you're threatening me?" I asked, disbelievingly.

He smiled that same nasty smile again and it sent unwilling shivers down my back; trickles of ice cold water all the way to the base of my spine. "Something I'm sure you couldn't understand, right? Threatening someone to protect a loved one?"

"You love _Alice_," I said, rather stupidly.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh bravo, Edward. You have grasped the essentials of black and white _very _well. Jasper loves Alice - Emmett loves Rosalie - Carlisle loves Esme and Edward loves Bella! Well done. As always, it is your repulsive ignorance of something called _grey_, that astonishes me."

I sneered at him. "Oh really? Letting you kill humans, keeping your secret? I think I know the colour grey better than most."

"Applied to me, yes. I'm well aware of what I am. Murderer, liar…but I don't lie to myself. I _know_ myself. Can you say the same?"

I faltered for a moment, wanting only to get as far from him and his piercing, cold eyes as possible. In this light, he resembled her too much…the same cold, slicing anger radiated from him in a way that was painful.

"Don't I deserve to be happy?" I whispered, closing my eyes.

"Doesn't _she_?" he snarled.

My eyes flew open. "She _is _happy! She has Emmett, the same as I have Bella! She _told_ me to stay with her! Did she tell you that, huh?"

"She did that so you would stay, because if you left she felt like she would die," he stated very clearly. Saying such terrible, life altering things in that matter-of-fact tone. "Don't you understand that? Can't you see what you're doing to her?"

"Rosalie isn't some poor defenceless young girl!" I threw back.

He crossed his arms. "No. Not for a long time now."

I flinched away from his mind; memories of conversations he'd had with Rosalie. Why did everyone know to use _that_ against me as a weapon?

"What are you even trying to achieve here?" I demanded through gritted teeth, trying to regain focus. "You _know_ how I feel about Rosalie! How I will always feel!"

"Yes, because I can feel your emotions." I could see where this was going. "But can she? How do you expect her to believe your promises, when each one might be as hollow as the last? Can she read your mind, like you can read hers?"

"You'd be surprised," I muttered to myself, remembering far too many times when she had taken me by surprise and said things that were buried away in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind.

"She doesn't _know _that!" he went on, pretending he hadn't heard me. "How could she? You've made promises to her before, and then broken them unthinkingly!"

"And she hasn't?"

"_You_ were the one who wanted to involve Emmett!" he growled at me and I felt a stab of betrayal; hurt that Rosalie was able to share her feelings and our past with him to such an extent. "How you can even bear to be with Bella I'll never understand! Such darkness and depravity! You think Bella would still love you if she knew the truth about you? You think she'd love you like Rosalie does? Rosalie knows _everything _about you and it doesn't affect the ways she feels for you in the slightest!"

"That's because she's as dark as I am! She's the reason I'm like that!"

He cursed with disgust. "You can't possibly believe that! You were dark and dissolute…broken and completely dysfunctional before you even knew that she existed!"

"I will not stand here to be lectured by you!"

"Then who will you be lectured by?" he shot right back, both of us speaking louder than was really safe to. "Carlisle? Emmett? Alice? You ignore us all, in favour of your little-"

My violent curse was sufficient to shut him up before he said anything that would permanently damage an already precarious relationship.

"…and don't think," I continued the tail end to my violent threat. "For one minute that I won't."

The corners of his mouth curled up nastily. Would the damned similarities never end?

"I've no doubt," he breathed, shaking his head slightly.

We were both silent for a seemingly long moment until I moved closer to him, a hand running distractedly through my already messy hair.

"Why are you doing this? I know you and Rosalie are…close…but I also know you don't feel that strongly about her to go to such lengths to defend her from issues she is well capable of dealing with."

"You know," he said, looking down at his own hand, face carefully neutral. "For a mind reader you can be incredibly stupid sometimes."

"So I've heard," I muttered. "Meaning?"

He looked back up at me defiantly. "I know that's hard for you to imagine isn't it?"

I was quick to glean the full meaning from his mind. "Oh please!"

Jasper smirked with infuriating composure - composure that he wasn't sharing. "You of all people should know how rare it is to forge a connection with someone who's soul is the same shade of night that yours is."

"Alice is your…"

"My everything? Yes. But there are different aspects of who I am. In most of my life, she is everything to me. I love her wholly, endlessly…she makes my life wonderful. But I cannot share myself with her completely. Rosalie understands what Alice never will. She sympathises, appreciates what most wouldn't even condone speaking of. Something so rare is worth defending, is it not?"

"Who are you even endorsing in this massive, unnecessary metaphor?" I snapped, suddenly wishing I had never left Bella's warm embrace. "Get to a point!"

His gaze distilled, icy clear and cold; shark-like in it's focus. "You're not only betraying Rosalie. You're betraying yourself."

I laughed bitterly. "So what am I supposed to do then?"

He fixed me with those same dark, calculative eyes and said it like it was. "There's nothing you can do. You're too late."

Again, a nasty cold feeling ran down my back and it had nothing to do with his uncanny ability. "What?"

"You've changed too much," he said flatly. "You've altered everything with your selfishness and your indulgence. Your inability to accept what we are has caused irreparable damage."

"What inability to accept what we are? I know very well what we are!"

"Creatures of darkness," he stated coldly. "Creatures of the dark, regardless how clever or loving…individual or affectionate we might be. We are creatures of darkness, inescapably so. Demons, angels, immortal."

"Believe me," I snarled, low and quiet. "I know that."

"Then why are you attaching yourself to this other girl?" he asked, with quiet insistence. "Why are you destroying so much, if not for the ability to pretend that you're something other than what you are? Because you're not a dark creature if Bella Swan can love you, right Edward? You're not some lifeless, soulless demon if a loving, sweet…albeit nauseating, little human can fall so spectacularly in love with you."

"Shut up!"

"No. You can't make me stop talking, just because you know I'm right!"

"That's not why I love her!"

"That's not _only_ why you love her, I'm sure!" he counteracted swiftly. "But it's a part of it. You don't want to be dark and treacherous any more…you don't want to be the counterpart to a person you can't admit you love!"

"_Can't admit I love?_" I repeated scathingly. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Well tell me then!" he hissed. "Tell me you love her! Tell me you love Rosalie…if that's not the reason you're with Bella, than tell me!"

I wanted to hurt him…close the icy, sharp distance and hurt him. Instead, the anger went to my mind…clouding my ability to keep control of my mouth.

"I don't love Rosalie!" I almost shouted, but managed to quieten it in time. "It's not love…I love Bella. I know what love is now. I know what it'll grow into, I know how it feels. I don't love Rosalie…it's not the same."

"Then what is it?"

"It's everything," I croaked. "It's just _everything. _She's everything that exists. She's in everything, I see her everywhere…I feel her every part of every moment that passes me by! I can hear her in my head, I can still….she's in my blood…she's life…death…she's _me_. She is me and I'll never be able to escape it."

A long time passed before either of us spoke. Eventually, he put his hand to his face and sighed. "I always knew you were screwed up," he said tightly. "I didn't think it was this bad."

"Yeah," I said bitterly. "Well…welcome to my world."

He looked up and smiled at me; a ghost of a smile that Emmett would have given me. Brotherly, reassuring…luke-warm. "I've been in your world for quite some time, thanks."

I shook my head. "I have to go."

Another sigh. "You can't keep comparing Bella to Emmett, you know," he said. "It's not the same and we both know it."

"You don't know her," I said, aware that I was defending her for the wrong reasons. "I love her _completely_."

"Maybe. But it's not the same situation. We all love Emmett. He's a part of the family. Imagine if Emmett was someone you despised…someone you couldn't stand."

I went cold at the picture his words painted. Even the thought of it was excruciating. More badly timed sympathy for Rosalie. "I guess."

"So it's _not_ the same. You're splitting this family apart because of it."

"Then…" I said, as a precarious plan formed. "I'll prove you wrong."

His brow creased slightly. "Excuse me?"

"I'll show you. Today I'll bring her here, to meet everyone. I'm not splitting the family apart. I'm making it bigger, like Esme said." I could well recall Emmett's thoughts on the private little meeting they'd had two days ago.

He blew air through his teeth, frustrated. "Edward," he said forcefully. "Don't you think you're hurting Rosalie quite enough?"

"I know it won't be easy for her, but it has to happen! Bella's not going to fade into thin air any time soon, no matter how much you two plot!"

The latter was a sharp little reminder that despite my efforts to maintain privacy, I sometimes caught snippets if not full blown memories of conversations that were floating around their minds.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "So bring her then. Just think about why you're _really_ bringing her here. You might be one of the best liars I've ever met, but you can't lie to yourself. Not forever."

Jasper turned away from me and I tried not to think about how he and Rosalie had to exact same way of storming off.

* * *

She looked nervous. So much so that I almost had second thoughts about my extremely selfish, totally misguided determination to show everyone that this could work, and that it wouldn't involve the loss of my family in doing so.

I touched her face lovingly, savouring the last small moments before we went inside. We were still in the car, seat belts still on. I knew she was building herself up for this; the anxiety was clear in every trembling breath she exhaled. I reached across, removing my belt so I could be closer to her.

"Don't be nervous," I whispered, watching her eyelashes flutter as my breath fanned across her face. "They'll love you."

She bit her bottom lip; I watched in fascination…the full blooded redness, the plump softness that I had tasted only yesterday. "Maybe," she said doubtfully. I knew she didn't believe that. Was this really something I should be doing? Who was I even doing it for?

But no. They all had to get used to it. I was in love with her, so completely in love and if she was becoming part of my life then this had to happen. This strange melding of two worlds.

"How could they not love you?" I whispered and her breathing stuttered ever so slightly. A small little hitch in the system that maintained her life flow…part of me flinched at it, another part of me liked it. The ever present duality within reminded me of what a fine line I was really walking. And this…what we were about to do now was making the line just that little bit thinner.

Self doubt flooded through her eyes, leaving traces in her cheeks; a delicious, heart-warming blush that might have been the most beautiful shade of pink I had ever seen.

"I guess," she said, shaking her head. Her soft brown hair moved, emitting a velvety rustle that I could practically feel.

"You ready then?" I asked, running the back of my index finger down her warm, hot cheeks. She shuddered, but not from the cold. When she swallowed, I heard the way her throat closed up and then opened. Had humans always been this…audible?

"Uh-huh," she lied and undid her seat belt, about to open the door. I calmly stepped out of my side and walked around to hers, door already open before she had time to pull the handle. "Thanks," she said, slightly awkward and still nervous about what was facing her. Or more accurately what was facing us.

The sulky voice in the back of my mind hated that. _Us_.

'_Got yourself a new _"Us" _, have you now?' _it snarled at me. '_The old one not good enough for you?'_

I managed to shut it up, placing my hand on the small of Bella's back so I could guide her gently inside. She nodded once to herself, perhaps gathering her strength and bravery. I knew she would do her best now, for me. More guilt. More of the voice, but I shut it all out and strode into a situation I had no hope of controlling.

I opened the door for her and she looked around, smiling slightly. I watched her intently, measuring every reaction based on body language, because - of course - I couldn't see into her mind.

"This is incredible," she breathed, looking around at our home. I took her jacket off, gently and put it down on a small iron sofa by the door. "It's so light and open, you know?"

I laughed slightly, sliding my own jacket off. "What did you expect?" I chuckled. "Coffins and dungeons and moats?"

She shook her head again, shyly. "No. Not the moats," she mocked. This was good; delicate derision of a situation that if, taken too seriously, would probably result in madness. On her side, at least.

"Not the moats," I mused, as we made out way upstairs. She was drinking in the aesthetic beauty of everything. Her eyes swept over Carlisle's cross, a small frown creasing her forehead for a moment before she moved on and continued to take in her surroundings. Halfway up the stairs, I turned to her and said "This is the one place we don't have to hide." It was a plea, sort of. A ready made apology for anything that didn't go according to…plan. I wanted her to understand, to see that this was my family…that this was my life, my home. I wanted her to see that this was what I wanted her to be a part of.

From upstairs, I could hear Italian music floating around, intermingling with the very unfamiliar scent of food. Human food. Hadn't I asked them not to make a fuss of her coming here? Clearly Emmett hadn't been joking when he'd said they should cook for her and then proceeded to ask if her mother was Italian. I felt embarrassed, though warmed by the thought of their attempted hospitality. Carlisle and Esme had been nothing but supportive when I asked them if I could bring Bella to our home. Alice and Emmett had been pleased as well, Emmett throwing a cautious glance to his lover before noting his approval of such an idea. And Rosalie, who I had managed only to glance at once or twice, had remained tight lipped, arms crossed together tightly and refused to even nod or acknowledge what I was proposing. Jaspers words had haunted me then.

'_Don't you think you're hurting Rosalie quite enough?'_

But I was determined this would go according to plan. They would all see that this lovely, amazing person and I were meant for one another. Edward and Bella…meant to be.

I laughed dismissively at what she could now hear. "I told them not to do this."

She smiled at me, bolstered by my humour and together we went upstairs to the customarily idle kitchen. I listened as we climbed. Rosalie's voice, irritated and tight, carried through the walls and over the Italian opera.

"Is she even Italian?" she asked through what were obviously taut, angry lips.

I heard Emmett's response, though Bella certainly couldn't have. "Her name's Bella," he threw in casually. I heard chopping sounds, the smell of the food was nauseating to me and must have been to them, but they were making an effort. It was encouraging.

"I'm sure she'll love it no matter what," Carlisle said. As always, his voice was a source of absolute reassurance. For all of us, not just me.

"Oh, get a whiff of that," Rosalie said, unable to fully conceal the distaste in her tone. "Here comes the human."

Maybe my plan wasn't so good after all. But there was no going back now.

Before we were even inside the kitchen, Esme was before us, smiling warmly at the girl I loved. "Bella," she said graciously. "We're making Italiano for you."

Eager and kind as always, my wonderful Mom. I gave her a fleeting smile, unable to produce a full one. My brain and stomach were now churning. Rosalie and Bella were officially in the same room and it was doing strange things to my state of mind. I saw instantly how Rosalie's posture altered, though it would be invisible to everyone else, even Emmett. No-one knew her like I did. But damn it that wasn't what I should have been thinking about.

"Oh, mmm," Bella said politely smiling shyly.

"Bella," I said. This is Esme, my Mother for all intents and purposes." Behind her Emmett waved a large kitchen knife cheerfully in the air by way of a greeting and winked at us both. Carlisle was watching me carefully, smiling with such pride. It was hard to focus when they were all thinking so much. I noted that Jasper and Alice weren't there, but they were close. Perhaps after the run-in with Jasper, he was refusing to even bear witness to such cruelty, as he thought of it.

"Bonjourno," Bella said, still painfully nervous. She shouldn't have played along with the idea that she was Italian, but I knew she was trying her hardest to be polite and correcting my entire family on the basis of what they were trying to achieve wasn't something she was prepared to do. I realised as well that they were going to expect her to actually eat.

"Molto bene," Esme said, all smiles and warmth. I knew from her mind that she already loved Bella - would accept her completely, so long as it was what made me happy.

'_My darling boy_,' she thought to herself. _'How wonderful that he's found some happiness at last. Alone too long.'_

Emmett glanced at me and then back to Rosalie, consciously keeping his mind on her. _'Going OK,'_ he thought. _'So long as Rose can keep her lid on. Kinda exciting though, Edward sure has got some big brass b…'_

And Carlisle cut over the end of Emmett's thought. "It's given us an excuse to use the kitchen for the first time," he said, placing more sliced ham in the salad bowl Rosalie was holding. I noticed that she was wearing gloves for some reason. I wondered why. There could have been hundreds of reasons for it, all of them perfectly useful as distractions from the way she was looking at me. The stormy, anguished whirlwind of her mind was impossibly off-putting and I had to maintain focus on Bella. It had to all be about Bella, and making this all work out perfectly.

"I hope you're hungry," Esme added.

"Yeah, absolutely," Bella said, working up enthusiasm for something I sensed she didn't want to do.

"She already ate," I pointed out quietly, because I knew she was too nervous to eat anything.

SMASH!

The salad bowl broke in Rosalie's hands and I wondered about the gloves. Maybe some more rings had been lost to such powerful, unstoppable impulses. Rosalie could never control the way her hands clenched and gripped at things when emotions overtook her. Everyone winced, Emmett especially as he put down the knife and came over to her, ready to calm and stop her down from getting too out of line if necessary.

She walked through the broken glass, her eyes a dark shade of furious.

"Perfect," she said to me and only me. It resonated in her mind. _'Perfect.'_

"Yeah," Bella said extremely uncomfortably, but still trying valiantly to be brave and polite. "It's just because I know…I know you guys don't eat, so…"

"Of course," Esme said kindly, with soothing encouragement. "It's very thoughtful of you." The last was directed at Rosalie; a plea for her to see how important this was to me, to all of us.

"Just ignore Rosalie," I said calmly, taking great care _not_ to look at her and see the anger reflected there in those eyes that I knew too well. "I do."

That hurt her. It jolted her being, resonated in her mind where wordless pain recoiled away from the casualness with which I had dismissed her. Her…the predominant centre of my universe.

"Yeah," she said not missing a beat. "Let's just keep pretending like this isn't dangerous for all of us."

Emmett rested his arm on her shoulder, lighting tapping her to remind her that she had to keep her emotions in check. Their silent little language, as it were. She ignored him completely, looking to Carlisle and Esme for backup.

Bella was fervent in her promise. "I would never tell anybody…anything."

Carlisle looked to Rosalie, his arm around Esme and said "She knows that."

"Yeah well," Emmett pointed out fairly. "The problem is, you two have gone public now so…"

"Emmett," Esme warned softly.

'_How can this be what he is choosing over me? How can I be reduced to such jealous…such envy? Over _her_?'_ Rosalie's mind was impossible to ignore now and then her thoughts swivelled into directed speech. _'I know I said I could do this…I know I told you to be with her if it meant you could stay….but this is too much, Edward. Too much.'_

But when she spoke, there was no trace of anything in her voice that would indicate the spectacular breakdown occurring in her mind; a chaotic downpour of uncontrolled emotions, not the least of which was badly timed desire. Desire wrapped in jealousy, insecurity and an entire life's worth of dark, demanding infatuation.

"No, she should know," she said, keeping her eyes trained on me. I could feel the heat of them fixed upon me, though I did everything in my power not to look at her in return. "The entire family will be implicated if this ends badly."

"Badly," Bella said, her speech punctuated and broken by discomfiture. I could still feel her, warm and alive next to me. I focused hard on that, trying to forget the inconceivable circumstances in which I had placed everyone I loved. "As in…I would b-become the meal."

I couldn't help but smile then at the odd choice of phrasing, and her determined - if very shaky - bravado. Everyone followed my lead. Rosalie cracked an unwilling, bitter smile more to impress upon her family that she wasn't as bad as that. Although she really was.

The situation was spiralling rapidly our of control. I had massively overestimated Rosalie's promises to try and accept what was happening. But then why had I believed her in the first place? Our history together was littered with broken promised. All except one.

I was starting to think that Bella might never speak to me again, let alone stay with me when - of course - things got even weirder.

Alice walked along a branch outside the kitchen window, as light as air with all the grace of a feather dancing in the wind. "Hi Bella," she said brightly, jumping down into the kitchen through the large, door-like windows. Behind her, to my great surprise, was Jasper. He was solemn and withdrawn, as I knew he would be.

'_I'm here for Rosalie,'_ he told me in no uncertain terms. He walked straight to Rosalie's side and stood there beside her, rigid but neutral faced. I felt a benign sensation wash over me. Ease and comfort - nothing like the weaponized force he had inflicted upon me last night. _'Nothing more.'_

Before I even had a chance to ponder upon what that could mean, Alice walked straight up to Bella and hugged her with all the affection and familiarity of an old friend. "I'm Alice." I knew instantly why she was doing this, making a point to me about her predications. We'd had words over this, but nothing could vex Alice less than someone disagreeing with her foresight. She calmly informed me that my opinion on the matter was more or less null and void.

"_It's going to happen," _she had told me with maddening serenity. _"Accept it."_

"Uh…hi," Bella said, looking to me briefly to gain some understanding of such odd behaviour. And I couldn't very well explain to Bella the full reason behind Alice's stubborn beliefs.

"Oh," Alice said, stepping back as if realising something pleasant, but unforeseen. "You do smell good."

I tried to hide my embarrassment. "Alice, what are you…?"

"It's OK, Bella and I are going to be great friends."

Perfect. Just perfect. What had I been _thinking_?

Rosalie looked at me with such cold anger, such distilled fury and it seemed to be shared by her brother, who stood shoulder to shoulder with her, quiet and motionless. Bella seemed to notice this, as everyone up until now had spoken. Carlisle cleared his throat and explained.

"Sorry," he said to Bella. "Jasper's our newest vegetarian. It's a little difficult for him."

I felt overwhelming gratitude towards my father then, for saying that. For making it seem like Jasper's standoffishness stemmed from difficulty in resisting her blood.

Even so, Jasper decided to make an effort (coming to the conclusion that it wasn't Bella's fault so much as it was mine) and nodded, attempting to smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Alice was supremely pleased with the way things were going. "It's OK, Jasper," she said, standing besides him. Rosalie had moved subtly away, deciding not to make obvious the united front both she and Jasper were presenting. "You won't hurt her."

And it dawned upon me how painfully _weird_ this must be for Bella. It was confusing enough for me, for a number of reasons I didn't particularly want to get into with Bella standing at my side.

"Alright," I said, breaking the strange atmosphere, brimming with different feelings and emotions. "Uh…I'm gonna take you on a tour of the rest of the house."

"Well, I'll see you soon," Alice just _had_ to add undauntedly as we turned to leave.

"OK," Bella said smiling once more.

Even out of the kitchen, I could still hear everything they said.

"Cute," Esme was laughing, with so much joy and happiness.

"I think that went well," Carlisle said.

Emmett was whispering to Rosalie, telling her she did well - he was proud of her - he loved her - it was the right thing to do, not losing her temper too much. Of course he would say that…Rosalie could have done _much_ worse and we all knew it. Rosalie said nothing, though I strained the hardest to hear anything she might have said. Alice was whispering to Jasper, saying how much she liked Bella. Esme told Rosalie to clean up the broken, rather obsolete salad bowl. Still nothing from Rosalie. Even her thoughts were oddly silent. I wondered how she would be when I returned here later, alone.

"So," I said to her when the sounds and thoughts of my family faded enough for me to regain concentration. "Was that as weird for you as it was for me?"

Though I seriously doubted, that regardless of whatever she said or agreed with, there was any way it could possibly have been.

We walked and the tension left me, like cold fading away to be replaced by soothing warmth. The shadows of night chased away by the breaking dawn. I hadn't intended for us to go into my room. If I had, maybe I would have tidied it up.

But I realised, once Bella was inside looking around, that this room wasn't the way I left it. Some CD's were moved, clothes not where I left them and the scent of someone all too familiar was in places it shouldn't have been. Rosalie had been in here, some time in the last few hours. While I was with Bella, perhaps. A realisation that made me very nervous. Why had she been in here? What had she been doing?

No time to investigate now, of course. Bella was there with me, and the idea of her being in my room was extremely pleasing, in a strange nerve wracking sort of way. When her eyes met mine, there was slight curiosity there.

"No bed?"

I smiled, looking down. "Uhh, no. I don't…I don't sleep."

"Never?"

"No, not at all."

She laughed, nervously. "OK." Next she turned to the massive shelves on my wall, stacked with records, CD's, even tapes. Rosalie's scent was strong here. I was irrationally nervous about Bella going so close to somewhere Rosalie had been.

"Wow, you have so much music," she commented, scrolling along the endless selection of music spanning over three hundred years. The nervousness grew as I realised that perhaps Rosalie had been playing music in my room. The question of why plagued me, though there was nothing to be done now. "What are you listening to?"

I knew what I had been listening to (_Trading Yesterday_ - '_She is the Sunlight'_) but what was in there now was as much as mystery to me, as it was to her. She pressed play and I heard the most minute sounds, signalling the end of a song and beginning of a new one. Bella was oblivious to it.

When _'Clair De Lune' _came onI knew instantly what Rosalie had been listening to. I knew this CD well, and I knew what song came on before this. She had always loved _'Reverie'_.

Again, I was shaken by the ghost of someone who wasn't even there in anything except essence and shadows. Traces of her left on things that were mine; music, books…clothes. The strangeness of it all pulsed through me, confusing me completely. The two sides of me were waging a private little war; light and dark.

"It's uh, Debussy," I said quickly, trying to stay on track. I realised that she would probably not think much of me for listening to classical music (though at this time I technically hadn't been) and I shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know."

But Bella looked right at me, her eyes capturing mine with renewed bravery and love. "_Clair De Lune _is great."

Which made perfect sense, didn't it? That she would love that song, when Rosalie hated it. Of course. What was life without a cascade of irony?

I pushed all this aside, and remembered how much I loved her. I took her hand gently and lifted it. She immediately flushed a little, her eyes heavy lidded and uncertain with the feelings that flooded through her. I struggled hard to maintain that control that I clung to, as I drew her a little closer. We swayed awkwardly, slightly out of time to the music. I slammed out the automatic comparisons to all things Rosalie. The dancing, the swaying…non-existent music and desperate, misleading promises …

So I twirled her around and she moved very unwillingly, returning her eyes to me with fresh, though well contained, humiliation.

"What?"

She shook her head, smiling wryly. "I can't dance."

I breathed in, catching too much of her scent and looked at her all over. "Hmmm," I said lazily. "Well I could always make you."

She challenged me with her eyes, not blinking when she said "I'm not scared of you."

I smiled fully at that, crookedly as a plan came into my mind. "Well now you really shouldn't have said that."

* * *

_A/N - Gah. That took far too long and was extremely lengthy. I think I bled some of myself in this chapter really. It was very, very long and I hope no-one died of old age while reading it. I also apologise for the delay in finishing/posting this. Anyone who peruses my LJ will know that I struggled massively with this chapter, most especially the retyping of existing speech. I hated that to a serious extent as I think I rambled on about on my LJ. Anywho, I got over it and managed to produce this mammoth chapter which, I hope, was worth it. _

_Also - I took more artistic liberties. This time to an extent I was unsure of. The whole 'Meeting the Family' scene was incorporated from the movie for several reasons. a) in the book, Rosalie and Bella don't actually MEET at first. When Edward takes her to his home, Rosalie and Emmett aren't there. I have to say this slipped my attention all the time I was building up to it and when I realised it, I was extremely upset. b) I LOVE that scene from the movie. I have to say, I really enjoyed the movie (all except the failed chemistry between Kristen and Rob) and that scene was one of my favourites. c) it was done as a little treat for my self, really. A light at the end of the tunnel sort of deal. Rewriting existing speech is EXCRUSICIATING for me when all my mind wants to do is go off in it's own direction. _

_So. As I was saying, if this upsets anyone I do apologise. After this, it all goes back to book canon. It was also a bit of a treat for someone (please excuse me, I forget the username) who requested that I incorporate that scene into the story. Hope you enjoyed it honey. _

_A few more little notes about this chapter before I go on to the shout-outs. The song referenced by Trading Yesterday is a song I fell in love with, recommended to me by the beautiful __CrAzCookyTash12. Also, the chapter title means the following:_

_**Achluophilia - love of darkness. **_

_**Eosophilia - love of daylight or dawn. **_

_I'm sure everyone kinda figured that out, but still. Thought I'd drop it in there. _

_I also have to say that I really didn't like most of this chapter. It wasn't just the monotony of retyping speech, it was the whole Edward/Bella thing. I really have become a hardcore Edward/Rosalie fan. But I tried my best to make Bella likeable and sweet, regardless of personal feelings because I know a lot of readers are really pro-canon shippers and I wanted it to be a genuine chapter for you guys. Hopefully it was. _

_What else? Other than rambling on forever, adding a few thousand words to the already intimidating word count, I'm outta stuff to say. _

_Shout outs:_

_Amber…you eternal Goddess of all things wonderful in my literary world. I adore you *does little worship dance*. Robyn, you are an unending source of inspiration and support for me, especially during tough times with this chapter. I thank and love you. Aubre…how to even begin to thank you for sharing with your story and feeling with me? Please accept all my love, darling. Koky, I swear your reviews are better written than this story. I sometimes read them before I start writing as you make me sound a whole lot better than I am. I think YOU should be writing this sometimes. _

_Aceswild, Femme Teriyaki, CrAzCookyTash12, marieLONDON, narutoclaymorelove4eva, Koky, MayCullen, ufmary, , JayJ1, It-Ended-At-3, lie4eva, MaddieVanDerWoodsen, Schmelly Inc, Ryoko05, Mia Arabella Malfoy, Maximista, VenusRising, luv4ed, Swill12, xtinkerxbell08x, mjinaspen, MACgical, twiggy94, Elhayln, rachelm23, AmyA.W, Tinuvielk, KandyKanemel….argh, all you beautiful people deserve such praise and thanks, but as usual I am exhausted by such exertions so late at night. Please just accept all my love and gratitude. If I forgot anyone, shout at me in the review and demand thanks. Lol. _

_But seriously, this story can be VERY draining and the support and kindness you give is all the keeps me going sometimes. So really - thank you. _

_So…if I didn't hint enough before, let me just drop that piano on you know. _

_REVIEW!_

_Thanks again for reading and supporting this story. You're all magnificent. The next chapter promises some very unseen interaction between Edward and Rosalie. Let me know what you think, what you thought etc…_

_All my love, _

_Bex_

_x x x x_


	29. Chapter 29: Happiness

**-Chapter Twenty Nine: Happiness-**

*

'_There's no chance for us  
Its all decided for us  
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us  
Who dares to love forever?  
When love must die?  
But touch my tears with your lips  
Touch my world with your fingertips  
And we can have forever  
And we can love forever  
Forever is our today  
Who wants to live forever?'_

_-Queen_

*

**-Rosalie-**

* * *

Sometimes I would stand in the bathroom, as alone as I could possibly be. I would grip the sides of the white marble basin until they threatened to crack and I would stare at myself in the mirror. I'd stare at that person who stared back at me and wait until something changed. I looked into those eyes, desperate for answers - for forgiveness - for absolution. I would wait until I saw more than my reflection.

Old ghosts surrounded my face, reaching out with dirty cold fingers to smear my perfect skin. Death hung all around me, furious that it would never touch me in anything but my eyes. And as the silence heightened, the voices began to whisper. Half garbled names and broken promises filling the air, tasting of ice and bitter blood. Because even when I was alone, I was never _really_ alone.

No answers, no forgiveness. The counterpart of my soul - dark and terrifying in it's passion - refused to look at me. Nothing made sense, nothing was right. Every smile I smiled was false; a necessary façade to hide whatever was beneath it. All colours seemed faded and all sound infinitely sharper. I smiled at the reflective glass and wanted to cry. I trained my face into the appearance of happiness, wrenching the smile into something that would fool everyone. All except one.

I should have been happy, after all - I had so many reasons to be happy. So many reasons…

I would stare into that mirror, drag my hands over my skin and my lips, tracing places where once _his _hands had been. Obsessing over broken trails where once there had been completion. Completion because we were touching and the two halves of our soul could be joined at last. And it didn't matter about Emmett or anyone else because _that _was all that needed to happen.

What should have died years ago, weakened by the flaws and fatigue of a human body, was instead alive and all consuming inside of our timeless, boundless forms. The desperate, fiery passion remained as white hot as it always had. Human bodies, of course, grew older and weaker - the emotions faded. Warm instead of hot. Soft instead of sharp. Faded instead of blinding. Perhaps that was the way it ought to have been. Perhaps such undiluted, unaffected emotions were not built to endure eternity. Maybe they were supposed to wither and die; not exist perpetually, within beings that could sustain endless amounts of time and wear.

And those eyes would stare defiantly back at me, telling me things I didn't want to hear…but I needed to. I need to know it, needed to get to grips with it. Needed to try and cling onto some measure of sanity.

To the outside world, I knew I was the very appearance of strength and confidence. My every glance, every step…every word certified this. I was Rosalie Hale…Goddess of all she owned and most of what she didn't. Years ago, this façade had been impossibly easy to maintain. It required so little energy to make them all think this. Now, I grew steadily weary of it. I wanted to let it drop off my face and wither far from me. I was sick of the smiles and the poise - the beauty and the arrogance. It wasn't real anyway, had it ever been? The confidence was only bravado to conceal what was really fear. The strength was a shield to hide the vast ocean of weaknesses. The beauty a mere mask to hide the interior ugliness and darkness that sometimes threatened to swallow me whole.

I was a woman who had seen too many years. These eyes had seen my own face, unchanging and tediously breathtaking, too long. The same face, ageless, for almost a whole century. The glass showed me nothing I wanted to see; yet this little ritual was deeply necessary. It was harder to smile now; harder to maintain the unruffled tranquillity. The carelessness, the indifference…none of it was real but it needed to be maintained.

I was a woman who had felt too much. Too much had torn through me, taken everything that mattered with it and left me devastated and broken without the other half of my being. I had bled myself into another, thoughtlessly, because what other choice was there? I couldn't refrain from any measure of increased connection, not when it went against everything I knew…everything I wanted.

I was a woman, broken. Broken because he was gone now. In all that mattered to me, he was gone. He was in love with another, and no matter what I repeatedly told myself…it wasn't the same for me as it was for him. I loved Emmett with everything I had…truly, deeply loved him. But Edward…Edward simply _was_ everything. It was like being in love with the moon, but acknowledging that the moon was only a part of the sky…the endless sky in which everything sat.

Ceaseless metaphors and symbolisms for such profound, tearing emotions. Though they weren't really emotions at this point - emotions could be controlled. No. This was _me_. This was what I was, not what I was feeling. I didn't _feel _broken…I _was _broken.

Though there was no mirror here, standing in the hallway with Alice, Jasper and Emmett, it felt as though there was. I stared into the space between their bodies as they talked animatedly about the meeting with Bella and I could see only my face staring back, as if looking into that painful, reflective object.

My husband's arms were warm around my waist; reassuring and strong, holding me close to him during this difficult time. Despite the warmth radiating from him, I was cold. Cold all the way down to the base of my spine where it seeped into my blood. A cold that had a name, only I was too terrified to speak it.

I smiled with unusual exertion. Today, smiles were particularly strenuous. I could feel parts of my soul splintering with the effort of maintaining such a believable guise. Alice smiled back at me, sitting casually on the banister of the hallway where we four had gathered to discuss the events that had occurred today. Besides her, but not touching her in any significant way, was Jasper. He looked calm and implacable as usual, his eyes rarely meeting mine. I nodded along with Alice, trying to pull my face into something resembling acceptance. It hadn't occurred to me just how powerfully Alice would take to this new girl. And I loved Alice, I wanted to preserve the relationship we had, so I smiled along and tried - actually _tried_ - to see if there might be any truth under what she was so enthusiastically saying.

"…so sweet and shy! And the way Edward is around her, they're just such a perfect couple! Like they've been together forever!"

'_Really?' _my mind thought to itself with gritted teeth. Externally, I maintained the image and impression of composure, even tolerance - but inside I was already failing to quite grasp Alice's massive over-appreciation of the small, repugnant little creature who had not long ago been in our home.

Free for once of the man who so effortlessly scrutinised my thoughts, my mind dragged me helplessly into contemplation of the kitchen scene earlier on.

I had hated the way she seemed to cling to him, in everything if not body. The way her eyes flickered nervously to his, looking for support. Her frail words and admirable bravery…it was simply revolting. I knew it would take divine intervention - a terrifying miracle of some sort - to bring me around to the idea of ever being '_friends' _with Bella. Her kindness and selflessness made my skin itch with baseless irritation. Several times during her presence, my fingers had twitched unconsciously; a knee-jerk reaction to her repellent fragility and clear dependence on him, after so little time together. Another reason for my disgust of the entire ordeal. Exactly how long had they known one another? What claim could she make to a man she had known less than a month? And to see them together, you'd think it was the understated love affair of the last two centuries. The love that crosses all boundaries, including species. It was enough to make me shudder. There was all too many reasons to hate her - even logical, clinical ones.

Apart from the fact that they weren't even the same breed of being, apart from the fact that he was roughly ninety years older than she was…she was - for all intents and purposes - his _food_. Sustenance. Nourishment. Nutrition…little else. He was in love with his _food - _even for him, it was intolerable.

Other reasons to hate her spanned from the ridiculous (irrational fear of being replaced and usurped) to the absolute, undeniably justified (Edward. Plain and simple. Edward). Her personality was such that she was someone I would have gone out of way to avoid had I been anything less than the immortal I was now, caught in a situation so undesirable it was almost laughable. She was everything that I despised. Everything that I strived against. He could not have selected a being so totally the opposite of myself and that almost hurt more than anything else.

She was the opposite of me, and she made him happy.

'_Stop it!'_ my mind reproached, realising all too late this such a vein of thought was incredibly detrimental to my increasingly questionable state of mine. I forced my attention back to my family, though it was an inescapable subject.

"Man, did you see the way he looks at her though?" Emmett wondered aloud; carelessly genuine. How could he know he was hurting me? "I think he really loves her." He sounded happy, as I should have been, were not this situation so horrifically complicated and involved.

Jasper's eyes flickered to me again and away just as fast. I felt a gentle burst of relaxation and inner calm wash through me, though I knew it was utterly simulated. None of the others changed tone or expression, so I was certain it was only for my benefit. When had he gotten so good at localising it? I would have to ask him later, while I was thanking him once more for his solidarity.

"Maybe," Jasper said with a non-committal shrug. "It depends."

Alice scoffed at his doubt. "On what? They're _made_ for each other!"

I managed not to close my eyes. Every fibre of my being railed against her declaration. How could she say something so stupid? How were they this blithely unaware of what love really was? Couldn't they see…didn't they know?

But of course they didn't. They had never seen Edward in love; never seen his eyes burst into hot pools of gold, burning through me. Never seen the way his jaw clenched or his muscles worked…the way his breathing grew jagged and shallow. They had never been thrown back by the force of his passion, exploding through our veins…pulsing through us, leaving fire and light where there should have been common sense and morals.

So why wouldn't they believe him to be in love with her? He _was_ in love with her.

I bit down on my lip as I smiled and forced myself to think it again.

'_Edward is in love with Bella. In love…with Bella.'_

The pain was as sharp and scalding as it had been the first time the realisation had come to me. He loved her…and it cut through me like white hot steel.

"Right babe?" Emmett was asking for affirmation to a question I hadn't even heard. My mind was miles away; lost in times and places that were unlikely to see the light of a real day ever again.

"Huh?" I asked, shaking myself.

"Daydreamer," he said lovingly kissing my cheek and tightening his grip around my waist. "I said, things seem a lot better now. Between…everyone. Don't you think?"

Between Edward and I, was the obvious and deeply unsubtle question laced beneath his unthinking decency, trying to elicit endorsement from me on the matter. Sure, things were better. Edward and I were being torn apart by jealousy and resentment, darkness and desperation…I was lying to him (and everyone else for that matter) and pretending that I could cope, when in fact it was ripping me to pieces. I was watching my life fall apart, terrified that at any moment I would lose my mind so fully that I would make the mistake of revealing to everyone I loved that I had been party to the greatest betrayal this family had ever witnessed. And even during all this, still…_still_…so powerfully involved that other person, even if it was in nothing but imagination and sleepless dreams.

"I guess," I said with practised detachment. No point, I knew, in attempting to sing my love of the situation from the rooftops. Everyone seemed to accept that I would always take issue with the matter, though it was clearly expected that I would cease to cause further pain to anyone. "So long as she's not going to be a risk."

I had tacked that on the end for Alice's benefit. Yet another swell of helpless jealousy, this time over Alice. Her sentiments for Bella were blatantly obvious - she already loved her as a sister, after so little time. To Alice, though, they had spent time together already. They had bonded, she had seen it before it had come to pass. She knew Bella, knew that they would be friends. And though it was ridiculous to imagine myself being replaced, the thought still plagued me - shapeless and nameless, but equally menacing.

I knew that after a while this would become tedious, even to myself. There was a deeply repetitive nature to the contours of my feelings regarding Bella; even though the situation had only existed for little under a month. But I didn't care. I couldn't force my feelings into a different mould…it was what it was, and no amount of anyone telling me how '_sweet' _and '_cute' _she was, would alter that. I hated her. I hated her so powerfully it made my vision blur and my bones creak with the effort of containing it.

They were all talking again, Emmett leaning on my shoulder as he spoke. I felt the reverberations of his throat against my skin, though I couldn't really hear what he was saying. His proximity was soothing; he knew that of course.

And then the atmosphere shifted; we all looked in the direction of the stairs, already knowing who had returned. I steeled myself; it was always harder to achieve any form of true deception when he was close by.

"Without her?" Emmett chuckled. "Surely not broken up already?"

Alice's eyes glazed a little as we all watched with familiar fascination. It never grew old, seeing her like that…knowing that she was seeing a shift in the fabric of our futures. I had dreaded that once; the idea of her seeing something and coming to know a terrible secret…it had haunted me for years. What was there to fear now, though?

Shaking myself from a would-be-bitter reverie, I waited to see what she said.

"She's still coming to the game," she announced evenly. "She's changing clothes and talking to her father. Oh," she added, smiling brightly. "She's going to tell Charlie about Edward today. They're going to meet." She laughed at whatever she was seeing, amused by the delightful future that was playing out exactly as she wanted. Emmett laughed with her while I couldn't muster up the energy to smile. Not with his approach so immanent now.

Emmett was in good spirits when he said, "I'd love to be there for that. _Hey Dad, this is Edward Cullen. He's over a hundred years old, has a fondness for mountain lions and enjoys watching me while I sleep_."

I had to smile at that, and my hands curled around his, pulling him subtly closer to me. It was like taking a deep breath of cool, clean air - refreshing my system, gaining strength from something magical and meaningful. He dropped a kiss on my shoulder again and we listened to the obvious silence coming from downstairs.

"Yes," Edward said once, his voice so relaxed and…yes, happy. He was answering Carlisle's silent, mental, question. This occurred frequently, between them in particular. "I will."

We then heard the minute sounds that indicated them hugging. Rustle of fabric, hands on backs. Alice wrinkled her nose and grinned. I couldn't recall seeing her this excited or bubbly for years. Jasper smiled back at her, but I could detect - as Alice could not - that it was slightly too empty to be real. At least I wasn't the only one struggling with this. A very slight comfort, but comfort all the same.

"Hey," he said, walking up the stairs with an undeniable spring in his step. "Why are we gathered in the hallway? Is there skulduggery?"

He was teasing lightly; playful and eager to take whatever jokes or mockery anyone had about the situation because he was so utterly confident in his newfound love. Equally eager to prove it with his overt nonchalance and delight. I wondered if anyone else could see straight through it, as I could?

"We didn't know your umbilical chord could stretch from Chief Swan's house to here," Emmett said sweetly and everyone laughed, including Edward. Obviously, he still hadn't looked at me but no-one else seemed to have noticed. Alice wasted no time in diving delightedly into enthusiastic conversation about having Bella over tomorrow as well, perhaps for a sleep-over.

"…be so much fun!" she was insisting, while Edward tried to be patient with her keenness to turn Bella into a dress-up-doll. "We could take her _shopping_!"

I bit my lip hard, maintaining that cursed smile all the while, though it was weakening. "I don't think so, Alice," he rebuffed gently. "She's not very into clothes."

Alice rolled her eyes, undeterred. "Well obviously! That's why we should take her shopping! Get her a little more integrated into the family!"

Edward's brow creased ever so slightly; seeing into Alice's complicated and surprisingly good natured mind. "We?"

"Y'know," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Bella, myself and Rose."

Emmett winced audibly and Jasper rolled his eyes and at his lover's extreme optimism. I noticed, only through years of practise, that Edward's hands tightened slightly. A reaction I was certain he wasn't aware of whenever anyone said something that struck an unwanted chord.

"Girls' trip out, huh?"

"Why not?" she demanded and I had to laugh at her determination to make everyone into _'One Big Happy Family'. _Everyone looked at me then, but the laughter still quaked through me. Slightly unhinged laughter really, because there was _nothing_ benignly funny about anything that was occurring. I was laughing at the increasing irony of this day…month…existence. "What?" Alice seemed exasperated with me, lightly hopping down off of the banister. "Rosalie was fine earlier on, weren't you? I think we could all be…"

"Alice," Jasper warned. "You're getting ahead of yourself, I think."

"I am not!" she insisted, turning suddenly, maddeningly self-sure again. The future was on her side, she was certain. Though I seriously doubted she had foreseen me helping Bella to shop. Did that creature even know what Versace was?

That earned me a slow, deeply disgusted (in the most subtle way, of course) look from Edward. It lingered only a moment while Jasper and Alice bantered back and forth about the obvious ridiculousness of her idea, and I stared defiantly back. When he looked away, I felt vindicated. Who was he to police my thoughts? I could think what I wanted about that ignorant, pathetic, unattractive little…

"Come on, Alice," Emmett put in, sounding highly amused. "I think maybe you're being a little too…hopeful."

She shrugged elegantly, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "Stubbornness is _so_ tiresome."

What a hypocrite my lovely sister was.

"Let's take things a little slower, shall we?" Edward asked, winking at Alice. She nodded, reluctantly agreeing.

"How dull."

"Yes, but this is Bella we're talking about. Anything less than dull is likely to kill her, what with her innate ability to find the worst luck in the universe."

Oh the plethora of comments I could have made.

A fact that everyone seemed well aware of when they all (most indiscreetly) gave me fleeting glances. Edward's lingered the longest; perhaps he wished that I could read minds and in turn, see what anger and disappointment he was screaming at me. Not that I needed to. His eyes spoke volumes in a language only I understood.

Well what did he expect? For me to be _happy_?

"Fair enough," Emmett said with unexpected force, breaking my concentration. His intention, no doubt. "But she's still coming to the game?"

Edward's face ironed itself out and he seemed immediately brightened by the concept. "Yes, after she's changed clothes." Alice giggled. Edward sighed. "What now?"

"Just make sure you call him, Sir."

He blinked, seemingly unfazed by the notion that he would be meeting her father. A serious turning point by Edward's estimation, and he didn't really react to it at all. To be expected, I guessed. It was all falling together neatly, just the way he wanted.

And I felt suddenly, very physically, sick. Not even in disgust of the _'Brady-Bunch' _avenue my life seemed to be venturing down, but instead a solid pain tore through me, making something invisible and long lost rise up in my throat before being swallowed back down. A reflex I was well acquainted with.

Emmett felt it too. "You OK, babe?" he asked warmly, intimately - a voice I loved hearing, though it hurt me to hear it now.

"Yeah," I said with what could be deemed as a casual shrug out of his embrace. "Just remembered something I forgot to order online for the car."

Bare-faced lies again, but he didn't question it. If anyone was familiar with my need to be left alone without explanation, it was my darling Emmett. "OK," he said equitably, not taking offence at the sudden loss of contact. "You'll be ready by the time we leave?"

"Of course," I answered easily, already halfway down the stairs and away from them all. I needed distance, air. None of them called after me, why would they? It was easier to talk about Bella without me.

I passed Carlisle on the way out to the expansive, beautiful yard. He was walking along, flicking interestedly through a book he'd never read before (a rarity for us). He looked up, halfway through thumbing a page to get to the next one, and smiled pleasantly.

"Rose," he said, clearly pleased to have run into me without anyone else around. "You're going outside?"

'_Please don't come with me, please don't come with me!'_ I thought desperately, willing him to just continue with his book and give me the small amount of alone time I so urgently required before being subjected to hours of familial activity with _her_ in propinquity. "Only to tinker with the BMW," I lied. "Rear springs seemed a little slack last time I took her out."

He closed the book, not buying into it. "You've spoken to Edward?"

I sighed and shook my head. "Seriously, I wish people would stop making this worse than it is. I'm not the centre of attention here."

He laughed, gently running a hand through my hair. "Rosalie, darling," he said with easy affection. "When you are _not_ the centre of attention, then something is very, very wrong." Even I had to laugh at that, but it didn't seem to give him any measure of reassurance. Instead his face clouded with caring sympathy and concern. "I know it's hard for you," he whispered solemnly. "For both of you."

"Sorry?" I choked, barely about to believe that he was seriously referencing his limited (but still potentially devastating) knowledge of something he thought had ended years ago.

"He loves you," he stated bluntly, or as bluntly as he could be. "That won't change."

I felt numb, stupid and frozen; a child caught in the headlights of an all-knowing parent. What had he just said? And in what context? And…what?

"I don't understand," I said, half truthfully. "What are you…do you mean _Edward_?"

It sounded good to my own ears; nasal, indignant, disbelieving. He waited patiently for my well articulated lies. "I'm not angry about _that_," I went on. "Oh please. No, it's just starting to get to me. The happy-clappy induction of Bella Swan into our family when she's not even…one of us. It's just a little grating."

He rolled his eyes and lightly tapped the book on my head. "Very mature, Rose," he rebuked lovingly. "You have nothing to fear from her, you know."

Again, a number of things ran through my mind; answers to his utterly incorrect observation. I swallowed them all and smiled instead because he loved to see me smile. "It'll catch on eventually," I promised.

"I know," he said, pulling me into an easy one armed hug. "I know how protective you are of this family and it does you credit. Just try to…make things easier for Edward. He loves her so much."

Why did everyone have to keep saying it to me?

"But then who will be the bad guy?" I joked and he laughed, stroking my hair again. I could remember so well that night he'd first touched my hair; promising me that it would all be over soon, that everything would be alright. I had believed him.

"I'm sure someone will crop up," he said and we parted. "Go on, see to your car before we go."

Some of the anger had left me during the brief, confusing conversation with Carlisle, but what remained was now insatiable. I wanted to break something. No, some_one. _I went to the garage and took off my jacket and undid the top four buttons of my shirt. I grabbed some tools and threw them lightly under the car before sliding expertly under it.

Barely ten minutes had passed and I was still underneath my beloved BMW, tinkering with the rear suspension springs when I caught his scent. He was alone; perfect. Just….perfect. Because _this_ was really going to help me stay calm.

So I told him, in a way that voids depiction, to go very much away.

He was undeterred. "I will in a minute. Can we talk?"

"I'm going to stab you if you say that one more time," I replied with comical composure.

"Well I guess stabbing will make a nice change of pace from being ignored or threatened."

"You know, they have call centres for this kind of crap."

He laughed - damn him for using _that_ laugh - and knelt down. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was close to my lower midriff. Even more perfect. I grabbed a wrench and tightened the coils unnecessarily, a few globules of grease dripping down on me which I diligently ignored. "Please come out."

"I'm busy," I retorted, wishing the car was in neutral and I could 'accidentally' roll it into him. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for the game? Making a picnic in case she gets hungry?"

Pathetically childish. I shuddered as my own words replayed in my head wishing that anger would for once lend me eloquence instead of irrationality.

"For God's sake, will you just come out from under the stupid car! I'm not having this conversation with your impractical, if very attractive, Jimmy Choo's!"

"Piss off, my car is more important than whatever soliloquy you've just devised on the way over here!"

He was angry when he spoke. Angry in a way that had nothing to do with my BMW. "Its just a car, Rosalie! Just a damned car, a toy!" The unspoken comparison to himself was painfully unnecessary. He obviously couldn't understand why I was focusing on a car when he was standing there.

I wrenched myself out in time to see him standing up rather quickly, taking a well advised step back. I wiped the grease off my face, well aware I was only making it worse.

"What?" I demanded. "What do you want to say me? Huh?"

I waited, furious and terrified to see what he had to tell me, or more likely, ask of me. I knew it would going to be something about the game and most definitely something about Bella. A selfish little part of me wanted him to ask how I was doing with all this. If I was OK, or if I was dealing with it. I had answers for those question. But I crammed it away to the back of my brain and focused instead on my anger.

He took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. "Why were you in my room?"

"Excuse me?" I sneered, running a dirty hand through my hair. I would have to shower before we left.

"You were in my room," he stated clearly. "Why?"

And really, what chance of lying to him did I have? Damned telepath. "Why does it matter? I wasn't setting medieval traps for her to walk into."

"I know that," he went on, his eyes searching mine for the truth I refused to speak. "But I just want to know why you were in there."

The wrench was still in my hand; I could swing it into his face - break and bend the steel implement on his head. I wanted to, badly. Yet I refrained.

"For no reason that would interest you," I told him and put the wrench down on the top of the too drawer with fingers that, so far, managed not to tremble.

He shook his head, his lips pressed together tightly. "You think this isn't hard for me too, Rose?"

"Oh well what the hell do you want me to do, Edward? Take her shopping? Have a little chat about past boyfriends?" I snapped. "And no," I counteracted swiftly. "That wasn't a threat! I still have more to lose than you, with or without your little human!"

"I love her," he said, with heartbreaking simplicity. "She makes me happy. Why does that have to hurt you?"

I couldn't look away from him, though I desperately wanted to. He wanted an answer and I was helpless to give it to him.

"Because it's not me," I said, managing to control my face if not my mouth. "I'm not the one making you happy, and I wish I could. It hurts me to see that someone else can make you happy. However much she loves you, it doesn't compare to what I feel for you and it breaks me apart that despite this…I can't make you happy."

He closed his eyes, turning away a little. "Happy?" he whispered. "Damn it Rosalie…you have no idea. No idea at all. You think you never made me happy?"

"Why else would you leave me for her?"

"I am _not_ leaving you for her!" he snapped, very quietly. "Haven't we had this stupid, repetitive conversation already? I can't help being in love with her and yes - she does give me what you can't but that is _not_ to imply that you haven't give me anything! If anything, you've given me far too much! People aren't supposed to be this….conjoined! It's not natural, even for our species!"

I turned completely away from him, wishing I could shut him out. But he was determined to say what he had to say.

"Do you remember what we said that night? About Emmett?"

"I remember begging you not to make me involve him!" I snarled, through gritted teeth, hating him for so frequently bringing up _that night_.

"Yes, but do you remember why we involved him? Because he made you _happy_, Rosalie. Because he brought balance to this…us! Because we are unnaturally involved, entangled, connected. There have to walls, limits…or we'll just dissolve into each other and you know it!"

"That's not why you're with her."

"And of course I love her! Of course she makes me happy…she makes me feel like I could be a good person, like I'm not…whatever it is that I really am." He paused, sounding a little uncertain, unsure. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper. A ghost of breath over his lips, twisted into my name. "Rosalie. Look at me."

He said that _far_ too much. Those words he spoke whenever I wouldn't look at him, for fear of falling into his eyes. It was starting to brand itself into my being in a dangerously permanent way. I twisted my head around, allowing my body to follow and he was suddenly very much _there_ as he hadn't been in far too long. There in mind, spirit and heart…the soul we shared seemed close enough to touch and I longed to touch it. I wanted to reach out and touch it, bring him back to me again.

"Please," he begged, reaching up to touch my face. "Please don't hate her."

And it recoiled instantly, far and away. I moved backwards, out of his reach and for a moment his hand stayed extended, still reaching into the area where I had been only moments ago…maybe he thought I would walk back into it. But his words were poorly chosen. I shook myself from the spell he had been casting and remembered everything; cold knowledge rinsing out the heat from my blood. I blinked unnecessarily to further break his hold on me.

"You should leave," I pointed out coldly.

He sighed, disappointed and hurt beyond what he could conceal. I saw his shoulders slacken and his eyes darken and the defences he worked so hard to build were back up in a flash. "Fine," he said, shuttered and impersonal. "See you there then."

I retreated to the safety of the underside of my vehicle.

"You'd have to look at me do that."

* * *

The skies were clouding over nicely, preparing for the thunder and lightning that would grant us cover and opportunity to play our beloved game on this most stormy Sunday. I sat aside from the preparations for the game as we all waited, pretending that we weren't, for Edward and Bella to arrive. I knew that this would set a precedent, however it turned out, for the rest of their relationship involving us. Whatever happened here today would set the bar for whatever happened after that. It was of great significance, to everyone - not only myself and Edward and yes (my lips curled in a sneer) even Bella.

I counted the number of Sundays I had seen in my time on this planet, 4482 to be exact, and watched the beautiful camaraderie of our family. Jasper and Emmett play fighting to 'warm up' for the game. Esme berating Emmett for using low blow tactics. Carlisle and Alice debating the best method of achieving curveball. Had Edward been here, he would have been with Emmett and Jasper, using his gift to his distinct advantage, pretending he wasn't.

But that was before; when his priorities were to _us_ and no-one else. Now his focus was on her and we would be lucky if he gave us a second thought. Would he still play like he used to? Would he be able to look away from her long enough to concentrate? Would she kiss him for luck? Would she…?

"Hey." A cool, yet sharp word yanked me from my musings with 'snap!'. Jasper was standing right in front of me, pulling on his cap. Having his back to everyone else, his expression was uncommonly sympathetic. "Having fun?"

"Buckets," I answered sweetly, failing to mask the bitterness. He sighed and sat down on the fallen log beside me.

"I know," he said soothingly, though he wasn't using his gift. "I know."

I shook my head, staring out across the field but not really seeing it. "I don't…I don't know how he does it. How he ever did it."

He wasn't a mind reader. "Hmm?"

I clarified. "How he can stand to see me with Emmett, if _this _is how he feels," I breathed. He didn't look at me, we just stared ahead.

"It's a very different situation."

"Not that different."

"He's deluded."

I had to laugh at that. "How so?"

He grinned slightly, I could see it using only peripheral vision. "She's his redemption," he said with poorly concealed amusement. "Saving him from his evil, dark self."

"Good God," I said with dry disgust, even though I knew he was making it less important and serious than it really was. "When did he tell you this?"

"We had a nice little chat last night," he shrugged. That caught me off guard a little.

"You did? What happened?"

"We talked. It wasn't pleasant," he admitted and for the first time in a very long time, I heard something resembling remorse in his voice.

Well now I just had to know. "And?"

"I had to be pretty hard on him, to get him to admit what he really feels. It's so hard to draw out a distinctive, genuine emotion from him now that doesn't circulate around her." He was leaving something out, something big, but I didn't press it.

"And," I asked, ashamed that I so badly needed to know. "What did he admit to feeling?"

"Rose," he said very softly. "You should know by now, that very little in this universe will alter the way he feels about you."

I knew he meant his words to be those of reassurance, but the cold refused to fade away. I couldn't believe it to be true, not all the time he was with her. It just didn't make sense. I nudged him on the shoulder by way of thanks all the same.

Now Emmett and Alice were bantering playfully, Emmett trying to get to ball from Alice who was far too fast for him. Watching this exchange made my heart ache a little. Such carefree happiness. I couldn't recall a moment in my life like that. It seemed like he had always been there. Gentle tranquillity washed over me very briefly, leaving traces of calm in my blood. I thanked him wordlessly with a smile, because they were coming now, I could sense it from miles away.

He didn't ask if I was ready, knowing that I wasn't, instead he gave me a quick pat on the back and got up to go to Alice, our brief moment of consolidation over for now.

Emmett gave a look that plainly said _'You should make an effort, baby.'_ How was it that his face communicated endearments as well as meaningful messages? I rose gracefully from the log and pulled on the well worn mask. I decided to ignore her as much as I could, given the circumstances. She was distracting in the worst sort of way and I was _not_ going to lose because of her.

Deciding how to split the teams were tricky today. Though no-one would admit it, there were subtle allegiances separating everyone, despite what they all said. In the end it came down to Jasper, Carlisle and myself against Emmett, Edward and Esme with Alice pitching. Bella, as Esme had suggested, would be the umpire. That was clearly tactical; she was on everyone's side, she would have to be involved instead of allowed to sit on the sidelines. Plus she would be in a position of authority, giving no-one (namely me) any opportunity to make her feel uncomfortable. After some good-natured messing around a heavy rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning burst overhead and Alice announced that it was time.

I was up to bat first, of course. Edward looked deeply nervous, to be understood I guessed, not that I felt the slightest sympathy towards him. It was impossible when she was close by. Maybe he heard my thoughts because the nervousness vanished, to be replaced with very natural looking excitement and enthusiasm for the game. He let Esme usher Bella aside then went deep, preparing for my attempted home run. This was how it always was between us. Somehow, no matter how it got split up, Edward and I were never on the same team. He knew to move considerably backwards when I batted. I struggled not to make eye contact with him and he appeared to be doing the same, making a big deal about smiling at Bella and everyone else who was notably not me.

Alice threw the ball through the air with effortless precision and I hit it as hard as possible without breaking the aluminium bat. I was well used to the force of the crack when it connected, but I heard Bella gasp behind me.

"OK, now I see why you need the thunder," she laughed nervously to Esme.

I was already a quarter of the way around the expansive pitch; Edward had sped off in the direction of the ball and I ran as hard as I could from base to base. I heard the ball hurtling behind me just as I was almost home, but it slammed into Esme's hand a fraction of a second before I slid gracefully to home base.

Everyone looked to Bella to decide in or out. She winced, anticipating my reaction.

"You're out."

To my left, Emmett cheered her decision. "Out! Woo!" I shot him a look and he gently rebuked me. "Babe, come on! It's just a game!"

I gave her my most skin melting glare as I rose. She paled beneath it and I moved past her with utmost revulsion.

"Nice kitty," Carlisle said, patting my shoulder as he moved up to bat. I caught Edward's smirk from right across the pitch and I contained the urge to sneer back. This was our only real 'family time' and I was _not_ going to let anything ruin it. I moved to stand with Jasper as Carlisle took his turn.

"I think," he whispered to me. "We could make it look an accident."

I grinned and flipped the bat over my hand a couple of times. "You think?"

"Sure. It's a pretty dangerous game to involve a human in, after all."

"Wouldn't that be tragic," I sighed. I knew he wasn't really serious at this point. He wouldn't kill her just to make me feel better; he was simply being loyal, trying to cheer me up. He was my brother, the only one I had, and we were closer than most people gave us credit for. "Think of the therapy I'd need."

He laughed outright and so did it, our laughter not carrying to her useless human ears, but Edward certainly caught it. He had just collided with my husband and was brushing himself off, still chuckling. He looked over at us and frowned a little. From there, I wasn't sure if he could read my mind or not. He simply looked confused as to why I was laughing. Did he expect me to embrace melancholia for the rest of my life? Apparently so.

Carlisle had made a home run and Jasper was up next. He winked at me before walking to the base, flipping the bat for fun as he sometimes did. Jasper was an exceptional player; better than all of us perhaps. I saw him give Alice a tiny, private smile before the rest of his face went deadly serious. She revealed nothing as she calmly aimed the ball with impressive force towards him. His bat slammed into the ball just as the lightning flashed and once again the poor thing was sent with meteoric force towards the forest.

He was halfway around when Emmett ran up a tree and caught the ball mid air. The ball was aimed back towards base again and I couldn't help but comment with ageless affection. "My monkey man," I smiled.

It was my turn again. I hit the ball with everything I had, determined to win the little pseudo match of _'the-baseball-that-wasn't'-really-a-baseball-game'_ and it looked like I might have been about to, when Alice called out in a broken, unprepared sort of way "Stop!"

* * *

Everything that happened after the meeting and subsequent incident in the field, seemed to happen very fast. It appeared no-one had been exaggerating when they told of Bella's supreme ability to attract any and all nearby danger. I watched, partially mesmerised, as one of my greatest hopes began to fulfil itself, right before Edward threw himself into a protective crouch and snarled viciously to ward off the intimidating James.

It all seemed to pass in a blur, though I was highly aware of my own thoughts during that time. I was surprised at myself for not feeling vindictively thrilled at the what was occurring. Hadn't I wished for her death, many times? Now that it seemed immanent, shouldn't I have been victorious…at least hopeful?

But I wasn't. All I felt was Edward's pain lancing through me. His agonising guilt, the asphyxiating panic and terror he felt at the thought of losing her. It seeped into me without the least consent. I didn't care about her in the slightest, but it was hurting Edward and so suddenly where there should have been quiet satisfaction…there was only painful desolation and worry. And I hated him for that. Hated them both for making me so inexplicably a part of something I should have been a bystander to.

The plan to keep her safe was constructed swiftly, everyone taking it upon themselves to do their utmost to protect her. Edward, Emmett and Alice were all with Bella, taking her to Chief Swan's house to commence the ruse that would lead James off track. Carlisle and Jasper were speaking in low, swift tones busily debating the fate of those vampires who would make a stand against us. Jasper was all for it; his knowledge from past lives made him very useful in this area. Carlisle was having trouble accepting that it was fully necessary to take another life and Jasper's clear desensitisation to the idea was not giving him comfort. Jasper had slaughtered hundreds of our own kind before and repeating such an act, especially in such circumstances at this, gave him no trouble. I could see the hesitation in Carlisle's eyes, but eventually he would acquiesce.

"Rose," Esme said with soft urgency pulling my attention away from the two. "Take guard outside the house until they get back. I'll check flight information. Alice just called, they've got a plan."

I nodded distractedly and went to stand guard in the darkness, waiting for them to return. While I stood there, I attempted to pick out a single definable emotion that I could base myself on for the next few hours. But they were all too tightly woven together; if I felt one, I felt the other. There were too many swimming around, far too many of them involving _him_ and _his_ concerns.

I waited there for only a few minutes, but that was plenty of time to realise at least one thing.

My hatred and jealousy for her had not abated in the slightest; I knew that solidly. It was still there in my chest, a hard lump of metal; easily heated and easily frozen. Instead what seemed to be happening now was a shift in priorities. _His_ world had been turned upside down and so, regardless of what I wanted, had mine.

One soul in two bodies. It had never felt so real until now.

I heard the screech of tyres and brakes, then saw the lights through the trees. Edward was driving Bella's hunk of junk truck and parked it outside the house. I watched him from the shadows as he took her roughly by the arm and yanked her out, keeping his face averted from her. I could see it fully, though. Self loathing and smothering apprehension were painted all over his beautiful features. Alice and Emmett were in tow, heading inside when Emmett suddenly realised I was standing there.

"Hey," he said, breaking away from Alice to come to me. I stepped a little out of the shadows and into his warm, welcoming embrace. "You OK?"

"Of course," I said steadily, holding him a little tighter than I would have done if that were really true. He sensed it and pulled back to kiss me. For a few blissful moments, I managed to completely forget about everything happening all around us. I loved him so much it made me want to cry and as I pulled his face closer with my hands, murmuring against his lips I realised I was saying it over and over again. His strong fingers ran through my hair, causing me to shiver.

"It'll be alright," he promised me. His very slight (usually non existent) southern accent was present in a voice that was oddly stripped of all it's usual modern Americanism. His stroked my cheek gently, pressing his forehead to mine and I wished we had more time to stay like this because every moment he was touching me I felt stronger. But soon enough, duty called and he pressed a brief, loving kiss on my lips before taking himself away again, but pulling me by the hand.

God, how I despised myself.

It was set, the shoddy plan. We all headed inside the garage together, Jasper and Emmett excitedly discussing the best method of disposal for James and his mate.

"I've had to fight our kind before," Jasper reminded Emmett. "Not easy to kill."

Emmett was confident, eager. "But not impossible. We'll tear him apart and burn the pieces."

Carlisle's displeasure and sadness was evident. "I don't relish the thought of killing another creature," he said quietly as I went to sit on the side, observing it as it all played out. I thought of my brave, overly eager husband my heart tugged agonisingly for a second. What if something happened to him? Or…anyone else? It was bad enough inside my head at present time, trying not to care about _her_ but being helpless to do so because my concerns were so obscenely intertwined with _his_. Now I was horribly concerned for my husband, as well as all my family. "Even," he added. "A sadistic one like James."

"What if he kills one of us first?" I asked, not realising I had voiced my mind's concerns out loud. Edward drew in a sharp breath, looking down as he always did when I was in the same room as him, especially when Bella was there.

Everyone ignored me and Edward simply spoke on as if he hadn't heard my perfectly valid question. "I'm gonna run Bella south. Can you lead the tracker away from here?"

Carlisle turned, mid step, deadly serious. "No, Edward. James knows you would never leave Bella. He'll follow you."

That much was true. Alice stepped up, placing a backpack filled with necessities on the back seat of her car. "I'll go with Bella," she offered. "Jasper I will drive her south. I'll keep her safe, Edward," she promised sincerely.

Edward flinched away from whatever her thoughts were; undoubtedly something about the future he was currently fighting against. "Can you keep your thoughts to yourself?" he snapped, made irrational by the overwhelming fear for her life.

"Yes," Alice said equitably walking past him and taking Bella by the hand. I watched him watch her walk away, the pain on his face was excruciating for me to witness on so many levels. Once she was inside the car, he gritted his teeth together and said my name, though he completely avoided eye contact.

"Rosalie, Esme," he was extremely taut…so nervous and tense that I could almost hear his bones creaking. "Could you put these on so…" he dug around for whatever it was he was looking for. "…the tracker will pick up…" he threw one at Esme with gentle force and then threw something at me much harder. "…Bella's scent?" It was some hideous garment of Bella's. He intended to use us as bait, leading all danger away from her. Only now, when I caught the revolting item of clothing, did he actually grace me with his eyes.

I suddenly wanted to look away from the sheer intensity of them. But I didn't, of course. It wasn't in my nature to be beaten down. I could feel evidence of this rising in my throat.

"Why?" I asked defiantly. "What is she to me?"

He glared at me silently, unable to believe I was saying such things at such a time, but I stared right back, daring him to look away first. Why should I gratefully snatch at the opportunity to risk my life and all I loved for _her_? Let him give me a reason, let him give me one damned reason to care about her.

Carlisle was quick to catch what could easily blow up into a full scale row between us. "Rosalie," he said sharply, though I couldn't look away from Edward - caught in the gridlock stare, a battle of wills. "Bella is with Edward," he said with intentional emphasis for my benefit. "She's part of the family now." He passed me the coat, holding it out expectantly. "And we protect our family."

For what seemed to be, but wasn't, hours, I couldn't look away from Edward and he didn't seem to be able to either. We so rarely looked at one another lately that the sudden contact felt unstoppable. I knew he was listening to everything I felt, thought and wished…his eyes were too loud to discern actual words from, but I got the basis of what he felt.

_How can you be so selfish at a time like this?_

To which I replied…

'_In selfishness, I think we are equally matched.'_

And his eyes replied…

_I would do it for you without thinking…for Emmett without hesitation. _

'_Would you risk her life for mine?'_

He looked down a little, breaking the contact first. His eyes stared at my neck instead, effectively ending the conversation though I simply couldn't look away from him for another few moments.

I finally broke down, gave in and took the stupid coat, glaring back at him one more time before Emmett followed me to the Jeep. I got inside, not fully shutting the door and shoved the keys into the ignition, waiting for the sign to leave to go about our various roles in protecting her.

Emmett put his hand on my knee, giving me a sympathetic but somewhat reprimanding look. I didn't care what they, any of them, thought of me; in their eyes I was a selfish, arrogant bitch anyway…let them think whatever they wanted. I listened helplessly to what he was saying to her through the window of the car. Her revolting little choked words, coming through her tightly constricted little throat. His desperate longing to protect her.

"Oh God," she whispered tightly. "If anything…what if…? If anything happens I swear to God…"

"Nothing's going to happen," he swiftly cut across her, unable to hide the quake in his voice. "There's seven of us and two of them. And when everything's done, I'm gonna come back and get you."

"Yeah," she said shakily.

He took a breath. "Bella, you are my life now."

I slammed the door shut and something broke. I twisted the keys hard and the engine roared to life - not quick enough to block it out though. We left the garage and I choked back the memories of a time he had said that to me, in plain English so as to demonstrate how true it was.

Or had once been.

* * *

Now she was gone. Far away to Phoenix while everyone else risked their lives to maintain her own useless, pathetic existence. Alice and Jasper had gone with her; I had no doubt that they would do their utmost to protect her.

And I, wearing her awful, repellently malodorous coat, was preparing to lead James on a false trail. We wouldn't start this charade until sunrise, however. Carlisle plan was to make it seem as real as possible. Keep Edward and 'Bella' inside before heading through the forest.

"Stay close to each other," he said, distractedly. "Maintain the scent."

I rolled my eyes, but Carlisle was too preoccupied to nice. It was one of the most ridiculous things he had ever said and I was close to pointing out how hopelessly flawed this plan was when he walked right out of the room, dialling a number into his black cell phone. Which left Edward and I neatly alone together. The universe had a sick sense of humour indeed and a nasty predilection for the two of us.

"She'll be alright," I said, less coldly than it was meant to be. The temperature of my words meant nothing to him, of course. He heard the original version of it in my head and knew it was meant more as a torment than a comfort.

"Uh-huh," he said, staring at the vast metal shutters covering the glass windows. The sun would start to leak through them soon and then we would make our move. "Where's Esme?"

"Chief Swan's house, remember?" I reminded him irritably, not wishing to rehash the flaws of his idea to use _two_ of us to replicate Bella. James was clearly no fool and two of us imitating her was plain stupid. He'd had other reasons for asking Esme, no doubt. He didn't want to be seen to be asking me anything without another person involved. Or maybe he just hadn't trusted me to do it.

His eyes clashed to mine. "I did…still do…trust you with my life, Rosalie."

I put my hand up, begging him not to start anything. Though I was a being of ceaseless energy, I felt unaccountably tired and the idea of delving into some overdrawn debate about our involvement threatened to drain me of all existing energy.

"Just not with her life, right? It's OK, I wouldn't advise leaving her alone with me anyway."

And then out of nowhere, he suddenly slammed me into the glass windows which cracked magnificently, but stayed upright because of the steel shutters behind it. He held me in place by the shoulders, pinning me there with absolute fury.

"Take it back!" he snarled, his upper lip curling. "Take it back…NOW!"

I did something very stupid. I laughed.

He shoved me back even harder and the glass caved in, falling to ground with an almost musical clatter. The shutters trembled and shook and the world itself might have been quaking but it didn't matter. Our faces were unbearably close and one of two things was going to happen…

Or not.

Nothing happened. He held me there in place, neither moving forwards nor backwards. I waited the longest time before reaching up, encircling his wrists with my hands and prying him off of me. He seemed weaker than usual and gave little to no resistance when I pushed him away, gentler than I should have.

We were both out of breath, though it had nothing to do with exertions. He put his head in his hands and his shoulders jolted once.

"Edward," I said. "Don't…"

"I can't bear it," he choked. "I can't even let it process…the idea of something happening to her! Do you know what it would do…I wouldn't be able to exist…I can't let anything happen to her…I just…I just love her so damned much and she's so breakable…so fragile and just…My God, it would take nothing for him to kill her. I've never had to worry about you, you're so strong…she's not strong, Rose. Not like you. Not like you."

He was shaking his head, crying into his hands and I was powerless to stop my deepest instinct from taking over. I closed the distance between us and pulled him into my arms fluidly. He put his arms around me and rested his face in my shoulder. Maybe her scent was soothing, maybe it reminded him of her…whatever it was, he was calming down.

"It's OK," I promised. "I'll be OK. We'll keep her safe, I promise."

He drew back at my word, staring into my eyes with childlike belief. If I hurt him now, I knew he would hate me forever. He was so painfully vulnerable like this…one cruel word and I could crush him.

But the thought of doing so made me shiver at the wrongness of it all. I smoothed his hair back from his eyes, damp with sugary sweet tears and tried to smile.

"I won't let anything happen to her, I swear. I will do whatever I have to in order to keep her safe and alive."

He choked back a strange little sob, his face scrunched up with sadness and confusion. "Why?" he asked, hoarsely.

"Because," I said, trailing my fingertips through his hair more than was really necessary. "She's a part of you. You think I could bear to watch you destroy yourself if anything happened to her? I was being selfish before, but I'm not now. I'll do whatever I can, I promise."

And while I was preparing myself to be thanked, to be given a friendly, awkward smile…he suddenly grabbed hold of my again and kissed me full on the mouth. I jumped a little with shock because it was the last thing I had been expecting him to do - literally. He moaned and sobbed against my mouth and I knew I should have pushed him away - he was probably only doing this because he was vulnerable and it was wrong of me to let it continue.

But I wasn't that unselfish.

I threw myself into the kiss, twining my hands in his hair and suddenly we were moving backwards and my back hit a wall. He refused to let go of my mouth; kissing all his worry, sadness and terror into me because he knew I could handle it. I would take that pain from him and let him focus on what needed to be done.

The world outside this room froze in time; nothing moved, nothing happened outside of us. His lips on mine, our mouths, tongues, hands moving and finding one another to tangle together and grip as if one would fade away without the other…it was the most glorious kind of sadness I had ever experienced. I could feel _our_ soul blazing between us and it was something he needed, because his half was broken and torn and hurting and mine could well stand to share the injuries. And we might as well have been one body too, for there couldn't have been a single measure of space between us. Were it not for the clothes and Bella's coat standing firmly between us, we would have been one body fused together by heat and need. But that coat wouldn't allow it…massively, unnecessarily symbolic, I knew.

And it all made sense. For those moments at least, it made perfect sense.

This was us, this was what we had together. Perfect, absolute bliss and devastating, utter desolation and whatever lay between it was no man's land. What we felt had no words, no true description because no humans had ever felt it. Instead they had a different substitute.

Happiness.

They had happiness where we had _this_. They could never feel this and if they did it would surely kill them. Instead they had a strange medium; a proxy emotion to substitute for something they couldn't experience. Happiness.

And that was why I could never give it to him. We would never make each other happy, not when we could do this. Not when we felt _this…_choking, aching, trembling undiluted passion, love, sadness, completion…and all else that escaped articulation. That was why we could love others…because they made us happy. They kept us grounded in reality, loved us, made us into better people and stopped us from fading away completely into one another, little did they know it.

And the fact that he loved her, for all of those moments we were entangled, meant _nothing_ to me. I could feel him in every way it was possible to feel someone and some ways that weren't. He was there with me and we _were the same soul,_ bleeding into one another. He gave me his pain and I took it, because he had done the same for me countless times. He had endured everything for me, silently, for years and I could certainly give him this.

Time reasserted itself and we were forced to break apart. He didn't tear himself from my lips like I thought he would, instead he kept his nose on mine, eyes closed and eyelashes still glittering with sweet tears. He held onto me, passing what remained of the abundant agony that had torn through him. I could almost feel it inside of me now, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was what he said next.

Hands on my face, he whispered "Not time or love or obligation."

I almost choked on a sob of my own; the transfer of his pain seemed intensely real all of a sudden and I thought I might actually cry just for hearing those words.

"Or happiness," I added, brokenly.

He opened his eyes, locking mercilessly with my own. "Rose…" he began.

"No, you listen to me," I breathed, placing my hands on his hot neck, down to his warm shoulders and finally trailing them down to his trembling fingers where I caught them with my own. "You deserve happiness as much as I do. I can't help what I am, or how jealous…selfish…cruel I might be but I'd never want to see you unhappy. Never. Bella makes you happy, I know that. I've always known that."

"It doesn't mean…" I pressed my lips to his own to silence him because I didn't want to untangle our hands.

"I know," I muttered against his mouth, trying to swallow down whatever grief wanted to now erupt from within. "I know, I know. I'm sorry for putting you through this. God I just…I wish there were words to say it, but there aren't. There never have been, probably never will be."

Eventually, I pulled away from him and tried to set myself right. He did the same, wiping at his eyes and training his face back into the way it had been before Carlisle had left us alone together. He was coming now, we had only seconds left.

"Rosalie," he breathed quickly. Our eyes met one last time before we would shut down and go about what needed to be done. "Thank you."

And the sheer amount that was contained inside that, made me think that maybe there were words after all.

* * *

_**A/N **__- This chapter took a LOT out of me once again. It's so bloody hard to work within the restrictions of canon but - as I'm sure you noticed - I pretty just went with the movie version of things. Once again I apologise if this annoys anyone, it's just a lot better for some reason. The movie is so much more open to interpretation than the books and a hell of a lot easier to work within. Almost all scenes in this chapter (canon ones) are direct and accurately from the film. The garage scene (thanks to Amber for the fantastic suggestions) was my favourite to write and also, if you re-watch the movie, listen out for the sudden bang and engine roar when Edward tells Bella 'You are my life now.' Tee Hee. _

_Special thanks go to Amber, Robyn, Aubre, EdwinaCullen, SkySamuelle and everyone else for sending in your AMAZING suggestions for lines in this chapter. As I'm sure you noticed, not everything made it into this chapter simply because I want to save them for Edward's POV in the next chapter. Really though, I can't thank you all enough for such amazing help that got me through this intensely tricky chapter. _

_So - onto the story. The official 'Twilight' zone (lol) will be ending in the next two chapters and then it's onto the four wonderful months of blank space in between Twilight and New Moon. New Moon will be intensely fun to write IMO. I'm still so obsessed with this story and I apologise to everyone for such a long delay in updating. I really cannot try harder than what I've been doing in the last few weeks, but I'm going to attempt it anyway. Also, I've been quite horribly ill once more, but I do have kittens now! Binx and Bam are SOOOOOO cute. My little babies. Anywho- updates should be back to a normal speed soon enough. _

_**Shoutouts:**_

_Amber…Oh Amber, there really are not words enough to thank you for your continued support and involvement in this. Let me only say I love you and you're simply incredible. Robyn, the same goes for you sweetheart. You are literally a source of inspiration for me during this story and I can't thank you enough for your FANTASTIC ideas which you so kindly gave me for this. Aubre, wishing you all the best and thanking you massively for your deeply effective input which has impacted this story greatly. Koky, for the incredible, deeply flattering reviews which I look forward to a ridiculous amount. Aceswild, for just being the sheer incarnation of AWESOME. Femme Teriyaki, you rock my world honey. Thanks so much. _

_CrAzCookyTash12, marieLONDON, narutoclaymorelove4eva, Koky, MayCullen, ufmary, JayJ1, It-Ended-At-3, lie4eva, MaddieVanDerWoodsen, Schmelly Inc, Ryoko05, Mia Arabella Malfoy, Maximista, VenusRising, luv4ed, Swill12, xtinkerxbell08x, mjinaspen, MACgical, twiggy94, Elhayln, rachelm23, AmyA.W, Tinuvielk, KandyKanemel, browniechadowes, jeweleryjunkie, crissycrisedward, Eosophilia (LOVE the name), Sky Samuelle, Emmelie Cullen, Kaprica6 and if I've forgotten anyone else, as usual, please shout at me and demand love. I'm more than happy to give it, because I am - unsurprisingly - SO grateful for each review you leave me. Which segways nicely into…._

_PLEASE REVIEW!_

_Anywho. Must post this now, as am starting to feel seriously guilty for such a long gap in between chapters. Thanks so much once again, can't wait to hear what you think of this. _

_Bex_

_x x x x _


	30. Chapter 30: The Complexity of Debt

**-Chapter Thirty: The Complexity of Debt-**

*****

'_Underneath the corset of your mystery  
Piece by piece undress you from your history  
I'm sleeping with seclusion in sweet disarray  
You can go heavy on me  
And I will not weigh you down, down, down  
You can be steady and clean  
I can take it, go heavy on me  
And I will not weigh you down'_

_-Holly Brook_

*****

**-Edward-**

*****

Breaking points. Didn't everyone have breaking points? Wasn't there a limit inside everyone; a limit to what they could take...a limit to what they could give? Everyone has to break, eventually, right? There was always something that finally caused the control, the restraint and the self-discipline to crack and finally shatter spectacularly; some individual, strange little moment in everyone's lives. That was how people changed. It wasn't a smooth, painless evolution - people were smashed apart violently, forced to change by the events that destroyed them and the strength that rebuilt them.

Everyone has breaking points. Everyone.

And I had to wonder, as I practically drove the car off the road, what mine were? When was I genuinely going to break apart? It had to happen soon, I was sure of it. The funny thing was, it wouldn't even be Bella who caused it. Though I was going out of my mind with worry, my fingers becoming numb and tingly with the sick apprehension I felt…I knew she wouldn't be the reason I broke apart.

It would be Rosalie. Rosalie would break me in the end, and I would be powerless to stop it. Powerless because I knew I wouldn't _want_ to stop it. She would take me to the edge of the line…and I would simply break.

Ever since I had left her in Forks, I knew this to be true. Maybe I'd always known it but now in the crystal clarity of terror, I could see it all too clearly. When she'd told me she would help Bella, I'd felt it. The knowledge that she would be the one to break me. Because how many times could we be twisted and bent and wrenched from emotion to emotion before something gave? When she had said that, I'd felt another little splinter in my soul as everything was hauled unceremoniously from one basis to another. How many times could she…_we_…change stance before something grew weak and finally snapped? In a way, we were each other's breaking points - we were the cause of the other's destruction, but before the broken pieces had a chance to hit the ground…we had caught them and put them back again, better than before.

I was ranting, even to myself in my own mind I knew I was ranting. And how obscene it was to even be thinking about this at such a time, when Bella had done the unthinkable…and gone.

I choked a little, swerving narrowly and avoiding a five ton truck before I plastered the car and myself into the back of it.

Not only had she gone, she'd left a _note_.

My foot was flat to the floor, pressing the accelerator as hard as it would go as I recited her words over to myself again and again with dangerously escalating self-hatred.

'_I love you. I am so sorry. He has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very, very sorry…'_

I'd read that line three or four times before it sank in and Alice, reading it over my shoulder, let out a furious hiss, cursing herself. Her reaction had seemed like it was underwater though; I hadn't been able to process it, nor the angry rapid fire exchange between her and Jasper that followed. After a minute or so, I'd realised that she had gone. That she hadn't just left to get some space…but that she had gone to face him. Gone to face her own death.

My blood had turned to water; my insides plummeting to black, icy depths and my mind jarred uselessly.

The rest of the note had been equally, if not more so, harrowing.

'_And please, please, don't come after him. That's what he wants. I think. I can't bear it if anyone has to be hurt because of me, especially you. Please, this is the only thing I can ask you now. For me. I love you. Forgive me. Bella.'_

_She_ wanted forgiveness? As if she had done something wrong? Placed her own life in danger with her own selfish need to prove everyone else wrong…as if she was responsible for this…? Staggering.

And for one tiny moment, I fully understood Rosalie's distaste of her self sacrificing nature. It seemed utterly ridiculous…obscenely so. How could she be so _stupid? _

Alice had said, in terrible choking way "The ballet studio!"

The moratoria broke, penetrated by a red hot razor sharp anger. For the first time in my life I was genuinely furious with her and it was all I needed to drop the letter and break into a sprint out of the airport.

I felt no remorse for the car I stole, nor for the dozens of people who screeched to a halt or swerved dangerously to get out of my way. I knew where it was, they had been discussing it while searching for Bella, unable to believe up until the point of opening her note, that she would do something so horrifically reckless.

The drive seemed to take forever. Grand theft auto was fine; killing innocent people on the way, was not. They were all so _slow_, it was infuriating. I slammed my hand down on the horn but still they took their time in stepping back onto the curb, shocked faces frozen comically as I sped past them.

_Surely_, my mind recited almost cruelly, _when I see the body, I'll break. _

Swallowing down a choked sob, I took a turn at nearly ninety degrees and the car tilted onto two wheels for a few seconds before slamming back down again on all four. Some part of me was already preparing for her to be dead when I got there. I could imagine it all too well; the predominant nightmare that haunted my every conscious moment. I imagined her body; still and broken, pale and cold forever more. The life…her very Bella-ness gone, irretrievably where I could not call it back. I imagined blood spilling from the corners of her mouth…broken, brittle bones protruding past her perfect, tissue thin skin. Her eyes calm and empty…

Just in time, I swerved again, this time at a 180 degree angle to as to avoid wrapping the car around a mail box. I was losing it…losing my grip.

And for some strange reason, Rosalie was back again. My mind had no sense of loyalty in such frays, obviously.

'_She's a part of you. You think I could bear to watch you destroy yourself if anything happened to her?'_

I shook myself, clearing my head. Whatever it was in her words, buried deeply, it did the trick. I focused on the road and realised I was going completely the wrong direction. I slammed on the brakes, coming to a full and shuddering stop. Behind me, cars were screaming their horns in protest.

"Get it together," I breathed. "You can do this."

I reversed down an alleyway, turned completely around and drove back up the road I'd only just finished wreaking havoc through. I would get there in time, I would save her…

Rosalie wouldn't admit defeat, not even when it was staring her in the face. And if Rosalie could be that strong…then it just _had_ to mean that I could too.

* * *

**-Jasper-**

The pieces of him came apart with interesting resistance. The blood was thick, coagulated and cool but it came out nonetheless. Bones broke like steel snapping; only with the greatest amount of force could we rip his body apart, and we were all too happy to exert the necessary strength. He was still more or less alive while we did this, emitting gurgling sounds and garbled curses through a throat that I could see the insides of.

Emmett was in his element. Such righteous violence was in his blood; the feel of it poured from him in waves. It was infectious, to a certain degree. When Alice finally cracked his head clean off his neck, the strangled rattling sounds ceased and so did he. I felt glad for a number of heavily suppressed reasons. Emmett set about creating a fire to burn the pieces, I realised that the smell of blood…human blood…was everywhere.

And I felt guilty, for maybe the first time in ten years. Guilt concerning a human wasn't something I frequently entertained, but now I was full of it. Not consumed by it, but still - it was there. I slammed down a door on my thoughts because, distracted though he clearly was, Edward could still catch the tail end of a thought that would permanently destroy our relationship forever.

While she lay there groaning with agony, and while everyone else tried to decide on the best course of action to save her, I hid the thought away, removing all traces of evidence concerning my part in her little escape.

Because I had let her go.

Had she seriously thought to evade me? Alice was different; trusting, overly-confident Alice wouldn't see it coming. Bella had thought that through. She had been quick to ascertain that a sudden decision blindsided Alice. But how had she honestly hoped to elude me? Perhaps Edward had underplayed the full extent of my power, for though not as accurate or as penetrating as his power, mine was almost as perceptive. Bella was a deeply emotional creature; it wasn't hard to detect subtle layers of change within her after the phone call…the obvious scent of fear and apprehension, altering invariably when Alice would mention Edward or reinforce the danger of leaving. So I knew her plan, though none of the particulars. I knew and I said nothing.

Walking her to the bathroom in the airport, my mind had been warring over the decision I was about to make. I knew that if I let her go, it would undoubtedly result in her death. For whatever reason, she was determined to face the fear that overwhelmed her. If I let her go, she would die. My hand on the small of her back, I wondered if this was one of the worst things I had ever done.

Or not.

In the end, it had come down to a decision. A question of loyalty. Despite whatever trap Rosalie was being drawn back into with Edward; stretching her unwavering forgiveness just a little further…I had made a snap decision there and then, deciding that it would too wasteful of such an opportunity to simply _let_ her slip away. I was giving her the choice, right? A choice to face her own destiny, fate…demise.

One part of me was wholly revolted by the thought, and consequential execution, of such an idea. It thrashed and strained against the bounds of my determination, pleading with me not to allow this. It spoke of redemption and second chances…lingering goodness and a desire to be decent.

It wasn't _her_ fault, after all that she was the sudden focal point of Edward Cullen's universe. _She _didn't know what she was doing to Rosalie…to all of us.

But in the end, loyalty was the deciding factor. I was aware of this to a sharply painful extent. Love and loyalty…the most dangerous of all obligation.

It all came down to loyalty.

*

_**-November 11th**__** 1970-**_

_*_

"_Happy birthday," I offered quietly. It did very little to remove the distant look of pain from her darkened eyes. When it registered with her, roughly three seconds later, she slid her eyes to mine and smiled. _

"_You're the only one who says that," she told me, as if I didn't know. Rosalie's birthday was never celebrated - a rule that extended to all of us, though it originated with her. There seemed little point in celebrating the commencement of something that was over, for all intents and purposes. But still, every night on the eleventh of November, she would get that look in her eyes and silently ask to be left alone. Alone, occasionally, meaning that I could go with her if the sadness had not touched too much of her soul. _

_And I understood, of course. _

_She wanted things. Things she could never have. A baby of her own, warm and soft in her arms…the maternal instinct inside of her refused to fade, regardless of time or immortality. She wanted that baby painfully. She wanted life, change…sometimes death. Instead the birthdays trickled past and she remained exactly the same, frozen in time - physically caught forever in the body she had died in. The body that could never bear her child, never change…never die. _

_And it made sense, in a weird sort of way, that my own human birthday was only a few days after her own. November Children, Carlisle would sometimes call us. The first time he said this, I had been curious as to why. It seemed strange and pointless to label us with such affectionate nomenclature simply owing to coincidentally close birthdays…but he had other reasons. _

_He explained that where he came from, England, November was a cold, harsh month; dark and strange, but beautiful. October was autumnal; lingering traces of summer still clinging to the leaves and foliage. December was white with snow and ice; beautiful and bright - crisp and clean. January was grey with the cold; the worst month, he called it - an optimal time for attempting and committing suicide, according to statistics. So November was something of a strange month for where he was from. A dark in between kind of time where everything, he said, was still and dead - but oh so beautiful. _

_We loved hearing that story, all of us. Hearing Carlisle talk about England, when it was a subject of fondness, was wonderful. His eyes would light up, his voice so warm and soothing…and Rosalie and I could not object to being called November Children…not when he spoke of it in such a way. It cemented the affinity between us, an affinity at that moment, that seemed to burn like black light. Invisible to so many, but ourselves _

"_What was your worst birthday?" she asked me at length, staring out from the balcony of the second floor bedroom at the stars and the night and the dark, lightless half of the world. _

_I thought about it for a few moments; caught between the indecision of an answer that would soothe her and an answer that was true. _

_In the end, I avoided the truth as I had done for well over a century now. An interesting, distracting lie was the better option, the kinder option. _

"_I was thirteen," I said, leaning my elbows on the cool marble of the balcony, laying my arms down on either side of the other. "My father gave me a horse. Beautiful, black creature. It wouldn't look me in the eye, I remember being afraid of it. But he insisted I ride it anyway, in front of everyone. I didn't want to let him down or embarrass him, so I dug my heels in and it bolted. It just reared back and then shot off at an incredible speed. I was thrown off, but my feet were caught in the stirrups. I was dragged over rocks and gravel for half a mile, my sides were shredded, my hands and face all torn up. When it dragged me back, my father was waiting and everyone else. I fell off, crying and unable to breathe. He just shook his head and walked away in disgust. Not pleasant."_

_She was smiling, I could tell by the outline of her cheekbones against the meagre skylights; long gone echoes of light and fire. _

"_It's alright," she said, softly - almost whispering. "You don't have to tell me."_

_And for a moment, I was caught off guard by the ease with which she had seen through my well intentioned lie. My incredibly well maintained façade of composure and detachment slipped, only for a moment but a moment was long enough for her to see it. And that small crack in what I worked so hard to maintain was sufficient to disrupt my equanimity completely. I fought to recover, fast. _

"_I just did," I replied on calmly. _

_She tilted her head to one side, considering. "You told me a story, intended to distract me. It was good; very kind of you. But not what I asked."_

_My throat tightened, a knot forming in my stomach. Uneasiness wasn't something I was used to. I was always in absolute control of myself, my feelings…everything. With a few casual words and a frighteningly accurate insight, Rosalie had effectively stripped me of a considerable amount of armour. Armour that had taken years (pre-immortality and post) to build and maintain. _

_Edward had once told me of her startling perceptivity, during one of the few times he had been driven to confide in me. I had dismissed the validity of his opinion to some extent, putting it down to indescribable bias on his part; he was so often irrational about her, as she was about him. In their world, there was no logic, no calm reasoning. Everything was life or death; all or nothing. Heartbreaking, all consuming sadness and desolation or breathtaking, blinding ecstasy. Their opinion, therefore was not entirely impartial. I listened, I let them spill out whatever words they needed to say until the pain was shared. But I didn't fully believe what they would say about each other sometimes. Edward's fervent, damning accounts of Rosalie's depicted perception was something I didn't really believe until I was hit with it. Not until I was the focus of her shocking discernment did I understand that Edward had not been exaggerating. _

_I flailed slightly, not knowing which way to turn or which lie to tell. It had been such a long time since the necessity had arisen, that all my well articulated lies and dismissals were rusty, locked away by redundancy. She used that time to interject more lancing observations. Her velvet voice slicing through to a part of me that never wanted to be spoken to again…that only wanted to be left alone, forgotten. _

"_As I said, don't feel obligated to tell me. Some ghosts should never be given voices or audiences."_

"_It's…" I choked and then very quickly recovered, furiously telling myself to get it together…I __**wasn't **__a child…I __**wasn't **__thirteen years old. "Nothing relevant, or of interest." Dismal attempts to dissuade her attention, though I knew she wouldn't press it. The same way I would never ask her to speak of something that so plagued her soul, in that quiet, suppressed way. _

_She nodded, maintaining her gaze out upon the world as if at any moment, divine realisation would spring up from amidst the houses and streets…and she would be ready for it, apathetic, but ready. _

"_We are so similar, are we not?" she asked me softly, with suddenly obvious knowledge beneath it. I felt as though my lungs were full of water and had never needed to breathe so much, despite the obvious lack of necessity. Her insight, or apparent insight, into such an event was powerfully disorientating. I realised, suddenly, just how much we really _did _have in common. More than I had allowed myself to comprehend through years of stern maintenance on memories that could have easily swallowed me whole into the darkness that awaited. _

_And then words were coming up in my throat, like an involuntary illness. I didn't want to say it, but I knew I was going to regardless of how much I would later regret it. _

"_I _was _thirteen," I said, sounding oddly young for my many years. "But I wasn't thrown from a horse." How…_how_…did so few words say so much?_

_She turned away from the stunning view to stare evenly at me, catching me in her eyes, so chillingly penetrative and ensnaring, like some beautiful spider. "I know," she said steadily, her warm voice in sharp contrast to her piercing eyes. "I know."_

_And I felt as young as I had been on that shattering November night when I had realised three things. I knew forever more that there was evil in the world and it had touched me. I knew what happened to me could never be revealed to any living being. And I knew that one day, I would die. _

_Those three things had altered me, in irreversible ways forever. The person I was before, died in many ways. I was thirteen the first time I realised all of this. That one devastating night changed me forever and those three new pieces of information shocked through me like destructive electricity, ripping and tearing apart what I was and I struggled to salvage and recreate something else…someone new out of what was left. _

_I learned to smile the brightest and boldest of all my comrades, because only the brightest of smiles could outshine the darkest of pasts. Funny, I smiled so little now. In my old life, the smiles had been necessary…until one day, I just became them. I became each and every smile…charisma personified. _

_There was no necessity to ask her not to tell anyone (I knew she had gleaned all she needed to know from my almost non-existent admission), I knew - without having to clarify in the slightest - that she would never breathe or think a word of it. Even Edward, with all his damning awareness, had never gleaned that thought from my mind. It was kept locked away right at the back, in a shuttered black box with other bad memories surrounding it as distractions. Yet Rosalie had know, without really knowing. Another odd little twist in our strange, twin-esque relationship. _

"_Mine," she went on, as if she hadn't the slightest clue about what happened to me on my thirteenth birthday. "Was my seventh. I recall it so well, even now. I woke up, surrounded by presents. Gifts everywhere, wrapped in expensive paper with beautiful silk bows. I tore through all that, of course, eagerly. My parents had spoiled me that year, far too much. I opened everything, my big bed smothered in gifts and then my father gave me this box. A big box wrapped in gold paper. I opened it and inside was a red, satin dress. I'd never seen a dress like it. The material was so delicate…it slid through my fingers like water."_

_She paused, tilting her head slightly as she relived the memory. I waited for the memory to worsen, to reach it's undoubtedly grim conclusion. _

"_And later that day, I tore it," she said, considerably tighter than before. "It caught on the latch of the door and ripped. I couldn't move for minutes, frozen in horror at what had happened. When I did finally move, I realised that everyone was waiting for me downstairs and I had torn my dress. My mother came upstairs to see what was taking me so long." She swallowed, her eyes narrowing slightly. "She was furious, of course. She hit me for the first time in my life. Right across the face. Hard. I had a big red handprint over my cheek for at least half an hour and she made me change and sit in my room until it faded. When I came downstairs, she acted as if everything was fine. Hugging me and kissing me, telling everyone what a good, beautiful girl I was. I hated her then…I hated her so much and I swore that I would never do that to my child. No matter what they broke or ripped…I would be a good mother."_

_And the shoe dropped. Rosalie had started planning her own little family at seven years old. From the age of seven, she dreamed of the house, the husband and the baby. Now she had the house, she had the husband…but could never prove her mother wrong…could never make right the mistakes that her own parents made upon her. _

_We were mutually silent for a while after she finished speaking, listening to the sounds of the night. When she broke the silence once more, I was better prepared for whatever esoteric question she was about to present to me next. _

"_It wasn't your fault," she finally said, after building up to it for minutes. I blinked, surprised. _

"_I know," I lied. "Believe me, I don't blame myself." My own voice was so convincing, I almost believed it. I sounded so confident, so certain…_

"_It wasn't your fault anymore than Royce King and his friends were mine."_

_Caught between the desire to shut down or open up, my mind flickered painfully back and forth from past to present. "I know," I lied, a little firmer. _

_She smiled and tilted her head again, considering. "I love you, Jasper. You know that, right?"_

_I didn't breathe, I couldn't. The second thing in so many moments to completely strike me dumb and I was beginning to feel a serious swell of sympathy for Edward, who so often told me of her damaging, destructive discernment. _

_My eyes flickered with the effort of swallowing down the compelling reaction that her words threatened to unleash. Apart from Alice (who used the traditional words very rarely) no-one had said that to me since I was fifteen years old. I was surprised to feel my own shocking reaction to such a simple set of words, spoken softly and with authenticity. _

"_You…?"_

_She bathed me in a smile, warm and intimate. "I love you."_

_I had no words to repay her with, I only swore to myself in those odd, broken moments that Rosalie and I shared something special. Something that ran deep beneath the ruined veins of old blood and dreams and dark, swallowing pasts. Something that held us together, drawn into one another by our own solidarity and kept by a cohesion born of understanding. I loved her then, if only for knowing my secret and not letting it change how she felt for me. _

_And I swore to myself then, in those moments as we looked out at a dark, sleeping world, that no-one….nothing…would come between that. _

_Ever. _

_*_

So it came down to loyalty. In the most violent, disturbing moments of life the one remaining pillar of stability seemed to love and loyalty. Tearing apart another immortal, as I had once grown very much accustomed to, was easy enough to do with the idea of loyalty in my mind. Letting an innocent girl, the newly found centre of my brother's universe, run away to face her untimely death was something I could do…because of loyalty. A subtle, undemanding debt between Rosalie Hale and myself.

Afterwards, as Bella was rushed to hospital, I let my mind drift lightly over the depth of what I had done, and the consequences of such an action. I had almost allow someone to die, and for what? Really, when it came down to it, would Rosalie thank me for breaking Edward's heart? Would she be grateful that I ended the life of the one who had done nothing _intentionally_ to her?

I felt vaguely sick, as I stood by Alice's side; Edward didn't glance in my direction, he kept his eyes down as Alice soothed him, insisting that she would be alright…Alice could see it.

Alice's reassurances did not hold so much weight as they once had, I could tell. His feeling were incredible; a magnitude of shredded nerves, suffocating guilt and pulsating worry, intertwined with sadness and self loathing. There was an uncomfortable temperature to the waves of anguish that radiated from him. I wanted to step away from it, to cooler places. To less complicated places. But I remained there, regardless. He was my brother, and I was used to being there with him. The bond he shared with Alice was akin to the one Rosalie and I shared; less dark, of course. The equivalent of sunny mornings versus cool, dark evenings. And where Alice was, I would be too.

"…never felt like this," he was saying as I pushed aside my reverie for the time being, determined to focus upon making him feel better. Strange, to be so old and yet still vulnerable to the icy, poisonous bite of guilt. "I just…I feel like I'm going to swallowed whole by it. I've never felt so guilty in all my life." He hung his head in his hands, his back tight enough to tune a piano. His shoulders were pillars of tension and determined strength. I wondered, as quietly as possible, if later on her would go to Rosalie and beg her to take the tension from them.

He looked at me for the first time, no trace of any inflection visible but I knew from the taste of his emotions that he mildly disgusted with me for even thinking such things when his beloved Bella was unconscious, not five hundred feet from where we stood outside the hospital.

"It's not your fault," Alice said, rather uselessly. I rolled my eyes slightly and Edward laughed bitterly.

"Alice, don't even bother. It's so much my fault that it's not even worth saying! This is what happens when I'm in her life…_this_ is what I'm offering her. Early, violent death. Either by my hand, should I lose control or by the hand of another, set of by my protective reaction. What else can I give her, other than that? Marriage, happily ever after…children? No. It's ridiculous. This is a wakeup call."

He was forceful now; his jaw set in determination. I could see it in his eyes, without even bothering to sense his overwhelming emotions.

"Edward," Alice admonished immediately. "You can't…"

"I have to get back to her," he cut her off swiftly. "I want to be there as much as possible before…"

_Before I leave her forever_, was the silent ending to his sentence.

We watched him turn briskly away from us, to go to her. Alice exhaled sharply, irritated by his stubbornness.

"Moron," she said through gritted teeth. "Why does no-one ever believe me? She _will_ become one of us. He underestimates her determination so much."

"Maybe he's in denial," I said softly, kissing her hair and her delicate, soft fingers intertwined with my own; a rare gesture of public affection. A passing woman, walking her small dog glanced at us, doing a small double take. It must have seemed strange to see us, standing there in the twilight, so beautiful…so perfect for one another.

"Maybe he's just a moron," she insisted, not even looking at the somewhat thunderstruck woman. Were we that beautiful? Sometimes I forgot. "It's best for everyone, why can't he just accept it? That way she'll never die, never be in danger…he would never have to worry about him hurting her by accident…"

"At the cost of her soul?" I prodded gently.

She waved a hand dismissively, relinquishing the temporary hold on me. "Please. Edward may spout his tortured little existentialist crisis, but deep down he knows as well as I do that we're about as soulless as Rosalie is ugly."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak at that time, instantly knowing what Alice was unsubtly about to segway into.

_Speaking of…_

"Rosalie," she said, her voice instantly different. "By the way, phoned me to say that Victoria has left the area. She did a pretty thorough scan of the area about an hour ago. Said her scent is nowhere to be found."

"And?" I asked patiently.

"She didn't ask if Bella was alright."

"So?"

Alice looked at me with mild disbelief. "You don't think this is all getting a little old? All this stupid rivalry business? She could at least try."

"Did she ask if Edward was OK?"

"Of course."

"Well there you are then. She _was_ asking about Bella. If anything had happened to her, asking about Edward would have been fully sufficient in enquiring about the end result. You're asking for miracles, don't you think?"

Alice sniffed. "For her to care about someone Edward loves? Hardly asking for miracles."

"Just because you've seen the future, Alice, and it means you two are best friends does _not_ follow that Bella is someone Rosalie will like, or ever could like. I think you're being very dismissive of Rosalie, actually. You couldn't have replaced her any faster."

Her eyes widened a little. "Pardon?"

"When was the last time you spoke to Rosalie, about something not revolving around Bella? When was the last time you two went shopping or did anything like you used to?"

"But she's being so unreasonable…"

"Rosalie _is_ unreasonable. That won't change because Edward's fallen in love. You've always been the one to defend her. You're always saying how she's a lot more than she pretends to be. Why don't you give her the benefit of your own doubt?"

For a few moments I thought I might have gone too far. She blinked once, taking in what I had said very quickly. And then her shoulders sagged slightly and her eyes lowered away from mine.

"You're right," she admitted, somewhat grudgingly. "I know you're right. I hate it when you're right."

I ran my index finger over her nose, lovingly. "Everyone does."

* * *

**-Edward-**

I had watched her sleep many times before, that was no lie. Though it was something I truthfully was ashamed of, I had taken a strange pleasure in it. Bella was an object of fascination to me, when she slept I could study her endlessly. I had grown to love it, the privilege of seeing her in such un unguarded state.

But this…this was something entirely different. Seeing her like this, so broken and bruised, her blood still resonating in my mouth…I wanted her to wake up so badly that it actually hurt me. I sat on the uncomfortable chair, not daring to touch her. I listened to the mechanical beeping, alerting me of her heartbeat. Each little blip was precious to me, each time it faltered by a fraction of a second my hands tightened into rock solid balls of concrete, not loosening until it became steady once more.

Her mother and Charlie were speaking to the doctors, two hallways away. I already knew the diagnosis and what they were telling her, so I paid little attention to the conversation.

Instead I watched her sleep, wishing more than anything else that she would wake up. I wanted so badly to see into her eyes, see her shaky smile and know that she would be alright…more than anything, I wanted her to wake up so I could say goodbye.

That hurt. Jesus Christ, that hurt. Just knowing that I would have to try and say that to her soon, whenever she woke up. That horrible, painful word.

Goodbye.

The longer she slept, the harder it would be. The more time that went past, the more I realised that what I was doing, would almost kill me. It felt the utmost kind of wrongness, but it had to be done. Right?

I shook myself, trying to maintain focus. Before I even knew it, words were tumbling softly from my lips.

"Bella," I breathed, in a whisper that would be inaudible to anyone less than immortal. "I need you to me hear me now, love. I need you to listen because I could never say this when you were awake."

I waited for some small sign of acknowledgement; a sigh, a frown…anything. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. She remained asleep, lost in dreams and healing processes that required rest.

"I didn't love you from the first moment we clapped eyes. I didn't fall in love with the first words that came out of your mouth. The world didn't fall off it's axis; there were no birds, no violin music…no fireworks. I hated you. I wanted nothing more than to rip out your throat. You were a horrific temptation, nothing more. You brought out the worst in me without even trying to." I took a breath, steeling myself and then found the bravery to reach out and lay my hand oh so gently on top of hers. "But then," I sighed. "I began to see you. Really, genuinely see you, Bella. It started out of curiosity, the silence from your mind. But the more I dug, the more I wanted to know. The more I knew, the more I realised the depth of just how fascinating you were. You were shy, intelligent, in pain…lost, withdrawn, loving…I couldn't stop thinking about you. You slowly crept into my soul and I couldn't stop it. And then I realised that I was in love with you. Can you imagine what that's like? To fall in love with someone you fantasised about killing them? Rosalie always says there's a thin line between sex and death and she was right. God, and then there's Rosalie."

I hesitated, part of myself knowing full well that she could probably hear everything I was saying, but a sudden bout of bravery overtook me and I was helpless to stop what came out next.

"Rosalie," I breathed. "God, where do I even start with that? There's so much I should tell you about her, because I want you to know everything about me and…well, she's so much of what I am, _who _I am. Rosalie and I are too involved to even get into, because I could never explain it in a way that would make you understand, but it doesn't change how I feel for you, my darling Bella. I love you so much, so much that it actually hurts me and I never thought a human could make me feel anything besides hunger, boredom or annoyance. But you, Bella Swan, you've made me fall in love with you. You've made me better. Stronger. If you die, I can't even imagine how I would feel…what it would do to me. I love you, Bella. I love you so much."

I sounded like I was crying; it _felt_ like I was crying. Everything inside me was wrenching itself into self imposed agony. But I wasn't crying, strange how the tears refused to come for her.

"If I only could…I'd do anything for you now. If I believed in God, I'd make any deal with him he wanted…swap places, trade whatever's left of my soul…all for you. Seeing you like this, it tears me apart. Seeing what I've done to you, just by having you in my life. This is what my love has done to you. Rosalie is strong, Bella. Strong enough to endure whatever I inflict upon her and sometimes I have to do that…I have to hurt her, Christ - I'll never know why. It's like looking into a mirror and smashing it. Rosalie is everything about me that you can't see, that you shouldn't see. Rosalie is just…but this is about you, darling. You. And look what I've done to you. I could have killed you. You think I could live with that? Knowing that one day your lips would taste so good that I'd bite down…and then there would be blood…and then you'd be dead and I'd have consumed you…drained you of your life, like I wanted to in the ballet studio. Because I did want to, Christ I wanted to so badly. I forgot how much I loved you, I forgot your face. For one moment, I didn't care that I was killing you. I never wanted the flow of your blood to end, that was all there was. Desire and blood and your life inside of me and…I forgot you, just for a split second. But that won't happen again, I swear it. I'll never taste your blood , I'll never allow you to go through that again. I'll do whatever is necessary," I swore to her. "To keep you safe. No matter what it is, Bella. I _will_ keep you safe."

I couldn't say goodbye to anything less than her conscious form, so I gently leaned down and pressed what must have been a cold kiss to the delicate, thin skin of her hand and then retreated back to the small sofa against the wall, where I would feign sleep while her mother and father were in the room.

And I waited.

* * *

Hours passed grudgingly until they melted into days. I watched sunsets and sunrises come and go indifferently; fading lights passing through the blinds of the window in the hospital room. Three whole days of nothing but my thoughts and the increasingly constant rhythm of her heartbeat. Conversations with her parents, phone calls from Forks…it all dissolved into a blur in the excruciatingly slow, but blinding stretch of time that passed. I was completely on standby until she woke up…because she _would_ wake up. There was no way she wouldn't.

Carlisle brought me a change of clothes all the way from Forks, for which I was grateful. A strange, logical part of my mind kept insisting that I needed to maintain the human act for her Mother and Father. I faked sleep, changed clothes and drank coffee (much to my disgust) and even ate a whole donut, brought to me by Bella's Mom, Renee. The donut was beyond revolting, and sat in my stomach for hours like a sugary, sweet stone; heavy and lumpy. I quashed the urge to throw it up, and I waited for my Bella to wake up when she was ready to.

I spoke to Rosalie on the phone very briefly, the conversation played and replayed over in my head, as I sat in the corner of the room on a particularly uncomfortable chair.

"_Edward?"_

"_Yeah." I sounded tired, even to my own ears. _

"_Are you alright?" Her tone was tight, controlled. Beneath it, there was a vein of genuine concern, though I knew Emmett was in the background, so that had to be regulated. _

"_I'm fine, Bella's still asleep. Any sign of Victoria?"_

"_None. She's gone, I think. Her scent is nowhere to be found. Not fresh at least." Then she took a deep breath, and spoke very a gentle, but meaningful emphasis. "Look, I don't have the time to phone her right now, so will you please give all my love to Alice, Jasper and Carlisle when you see them. Not that you're under obligation or anything."_

_I blinked, my mind sifting through her words like a sieve. _

_Time. Love. Obligation. _

_And I actually smiled, despite myself, feeling just a little stronger than I had done a moment ago. _

"_Yes," I said, nodding. "Yes I will. Thanks, Rose."_

"_See you when you get back," she promised. _

Even despite the upside-down terror I was caught up in, there did exist some small measure of constancy. Rosalie knew, without having to be told, what I needed to hear. Even though it was unfathomable treachery and disloyalty to Bella, it couldn't be helped. Those words held such irreversible meaning to me; an ancient balm that soothed whatever part of my soul was in pain. Rosalie would always be there, no matter how far away she was. And she would always know what to do just a little bit better than anyone else, though that was hard to admit even to myself. Even as Bella lay there, still and unmoving, riddled with injuries I had caused…the truth was obstinate, unmovable and undeniable.

I wrapped my arms around myself, wanting desperately to be held. Such a strange impulse, especially at such a time. Were I human, it would have been regarded as quite normal, I supposed. But I wasn't human; being in love with one didn't alter that. So why did I feel such need…such longing to be held? Taken close to the body of another and told that everything would be alright, and have them mean it. Have someone whisper into my hair that she would wake up, of _course_ she would wake up. Feel someone's strong arms wrap around me and protect me from everything else, because that _someone_ could actually do that.

I sighed again. _Someone_ was cropping up a lot in my mind. I questioned myself repeatedly because of it; what exactly was wrong with me, that I was thinking such selfish thoughts as such a time? Then again, asking such a question might not have been wise. Tugging on that thread would only lead to unravelling.

And I could not afford to unravel just then, because I wasn't certain I would ever be able to pull myself back together.

* * *

**-Alice-**

Strange.

That was a word I was well acquainted with. I knew what people thought of me, how they categorised me. Even lovingly, I knew my name to be somewhat synonymous with that word.

Strange.

But in this, I could find not value nor sense in labelling myself thusly. Because I wasn't the strange one anymore. Instead, my brother, Edward…he had taken that word all for himself.

The future and I were old friends. Sometimes we fought, but mostly we were calm, logical comrades. Glimpses came and went, unevenly generous as the future decided to be. Sometimes it was moment for moment perfect; other times it was completely wrong. Even the future could not fully account for the unpredictability of such creatures as us. Bella Swan, for one, had already blindsided my visions to her own 'benefit'. A benefit that had driven my brother to breaking point. To a place I began to fear he might never come back from.

I sat alone, on the wall outside the hospital, surrounded by the velvety touch of darkness, considering many things at once. The future for all my family, the wellbeing of Bella, the pain my brother was in and myriad other little things. How odd it was to speak so well inside my own head, the grains of grit from beneath me which I could feel separately from only the backs of my thighs.

Strange.

But then, many things were strange. Edward was strange. Falling in love with a human, even a human that I knew I would come to be good friends with, was unequivocally strange. Perhaps that was why I pushed so hard for the logical answer; turning Bella into one of us. Only Edward could fall in love with a human; the equivalent of a human falling in love with a cow, or a pig…a creature that was ultimately for consumption. Sustenance. Food. Stranger still was his indecision towards the only logical (and happy) conclusion. Making her immortal would solve almost all foreseeable problems in their relationship. Her safety was the most obvious factor. He wouldn't have to hold himself back with her. Though he would hate to think I was aware of it, I knew very well of his slightly darker side. Occasionally I would see little flashes of something inside him, something that led me to believe he was not all tenderness and chaste love. Were Bella not quite so breakable, he could fully allow to see that side of him.

Images flickered past my eyes again, like something super imposed…vaguely translucent but for the outlines and colours. Broken shards of visions, shattered before they could complete themselves. Edward was driving himself mad, and me with him. His infuriating vacillation was beyond tolerance. If only he could firmly decide on what to do, then I would be prepared for it. Flashes of him leaving Forks…all of us leaving Forks…sped past my eyes, too fast to be anything concrete. Snippets of us staying, of him attempting to be with her came and went equally fast. Images of Bella the vampire, beautiful and immortal for all time teased me swiftly and then for some odd reason, another face popped in there.

Rosalie again.

I shook my head, wondering why yet again Rosalie's face was relevant. I knew she was being stubborn, unfair to Edward and Bella, but I could not imagine her tampering in their future. Maybe she affected something indirectly. Rosalie often found her way into some things regarding Edward's future, strangely. I dismissed it as usual and put it down to my guilt concerning my treatment of her. Rosalie was easy to get angry with and required hard work to befriend, as I discovered many years before and though she would never say anything, I knew she would be upset if I was seen to choose Bella over her. Which I certainly was not doing.

The truth was far less interesting than what everyone else made it into. The truth was that Bella was sweet and pleasant and I liked her. The truth was that Edward loved Bella, but was afraid of the simplicity of such a thing and therefore chose the complications over what might actually evolve into happiness. The truth was that I would never choose Bella over Rosalie, no matter how easy Rosalie might make it.

It was as if they all preferred the complications…the strangeness.

Oh well. I was certainly not the person to put a stop to it, should that be their preference.

I reached inside my coat pocket with a sigh, pulled out my cell and dialled Rosalie's number on speed dial four. Carlisle was one, Jasper was two, Edward was three. I felt a sudden twinge of guilt, as if Rosalie's fourth place on my speed dial was indicative of her position in my life.

I hit four, and waited for her to answer, full of determination that I would show her that no-one, myself included, was choosing Bella Swan over her.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

My bones creaked, my hands were clammy. I itched, I ached, I was restless; lost and tormented by a seemingly endless stream of time that flowed too slowly. The horrific sameness that swallowed everything and allowed no change, bore no end in sight. The chair was uncomfortable; I was too hot, too cold. My skin tingled and twitched and no matter how much I denied I might be nervous, it was no good.

Outside, the rain lashed down upon the windows; slithering droplets landing uselessly on the windowsill. The sky was it's usual colourless grey; a sky from a time that predated colour television. Another gloomy Sunday in Forks and I was stuck inside, while everyone else was away in Phoenix. While Edward was in Phoenix, more accurately. Busily dealing with the events that threatened to tear us all apart, starting with Edward and his precious Bella.

I hissed to myself, hating the intense treachery of thought I was so frequently driven to. Shouldn't my husband be my priority? My only priority? My darling Emmett…who would never promise my anything, because he didn't need to? My beautiful boy who would always be there, everything I could ever need…

God, there was messed up and then there was what I was.

Somewhere, Esme was nearby Charlie's house. Only she and I left in Forks to maintain some security. Edward's idea, of course. Have only minimal security for Charlie. Bella was the priority. Of course.

I hadn't had the energy to be offended that I was considered to be minimal security, nor could I work up the effort to care that my life had been put in considerably more danger than any of the others, what with being left more or less alone.

It didn't matter. Very little did.

Now I was crippled with boredom, indecision…time. Time was always an enemy of mine. Reduced to sitting by the phone, waiting for someone to bother to give me an update…and only time to keep me company.

I couldn't watch TV, I couldn't listen to or play music. There was no book that could have held my attention. Nothing but myself and the vast amount of time between now and the time when the phone would ring.

And as I sat there, I wondered why this was.

Certainly I was worried about Edward. Certainly worried about everyone. Carlisle, Emmett, Alice, Jasper…everyone. I had a sickly feeling that they were all keeping different things from me. Alice's phone call yesterday was nothing but evidence of this. After listening to her stammering (an affliction I had never heard touch her voice) I came to the conclusion that she had called to say something important, but had failed to actually say it. Her hasty goodbye and odd assurance that we would go shopping when they got back caused my mind to run itself ragged trying to figure out what she had been about to say.

Something was occurring, and they weren't involving me.

Jasper had been similarly strange. His phone call had consisted of massive bouts of silence, in which I attempted to guess what the hell was happening. Finally, he'd spoken in a rush, assuring me that Bella would be fine and that no matter what, I had nothing to feel guilty about. He had ended the call with "Love you, Rose."

I looked at the receiver for a full minute, the buzz of the dead line echoing in my mind. When I'd put it down with a complacent click, I was completely perplexed. He never said that; I could never think of a time he had _ever _said that to me.

It made me nervous. Nervous enough to call Edward, and get cut off before it went to answer phone.

Of course, he was in the hospital. That was why he cut me off. Nothing else. Still, it took far too long to reassure myself that it didn't matter, even if he had.

I realised what a hopeless, pathetic wreck I had become without Emmett or Edward. I hated that I had become reliant on one or the other for my own sanity, wellbeing and sense of self. Shouldn't I be strong enough to cope without them? Apparently not.

I jumped out of my skin when the phone finally rang.

"Hello?" I fumbled to answer it, almost pressing the reject button by accident. "Edward?"

"Yes," his clipped voice came over the line. I knew he was in the presence of someone else, Carlisle perhaps, to be speaking to me in such a way. "Just calling to let you know Bella is awake."

"And?"

"She's fine, or she will be fine," he told me. "They said she needs a lot of rest and her leg has to stay in the cast for a while, but other than that…she'll be as good as new."

"And?"

There was silence, the sound of a door closing. "And what?" he snapped, and I knew he was alone now.

"Have you spoken to her?"

The phone practically turned cold in my hand.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't be dense, Edward. You know what I'm talking about. Alice told me what you were going to do. Did you do it?"

His voice was serrated ice. "No. I did not."

I let that sink in for a moment. "Why?"

"Because I love her, Rosalie. I love her and I can't leave her. Is that good enough?"

"But after everything that happened…"

"What good will it do to leave her now? Victoria is still out there, Bella's as weak as a kitten…leaving will destroy her now. And me."

I winced, hating to hear it. He wasn't supposed to be so weak. "When are you coming home?"

"We're flying back to Forks tomorrow. Charlie alright?"

"Charlie is fine. Esme too. Did you call her? She'd want to know."

"I already called her. And Charlie."

Oh that didn't hurt at all, that I was the last person he thought to call.

"When you come back, we need to talk," I said, before he could slip another insult into the conversation for reasons I would never understand.

"Yes we do," he agreed coldly. "I have to go. See you then."

Click.

And once again, the only company I had to look forward to for the foreseeable future, was time.

* * *

It was harder than before, maintaining and playing the role of _Happy Families _while things were steeped in such painful uncertainty and turmoil. The household, our family, our life had been turned utterly around, thrown into disarray by the extremely precarious life and love of Bella Swan. If looking around at the mess she had caused me was supposed to be the basis of any possibly friendship between us, then everyone had high hopes indeed.

Things were so painfully different now. We had grown used to a strange, unconventional routine of sorts. Just us seven, alone together and able to really be ourselves. Relaxed, inspired, alone, involved, laughing, half dressed…whatever we wanted after the day's oppressive nature. What had once been a sanctuary, a safe haven, was now a place of cold anxiety and stifling silence. Even as her health improved, the situation did not. Edward grew further apart from me in every way he possibly could. He didn't speak to me for full days at a time and when he did, he used words of distant indifference and unconcern. I was an interference in his one and only priority; something he resented me for, clearly.

After two weeks, I began to give up on the idea that we were ever going to get a chance to talk. After all, there had been opportunities that he hadn't taken advantage of; times when we could have spoken that he simply ignored. Moments that were left alone, apparently not important enough to steal.

And it hurt. It hurt so bad I doubted anyone, even Jasper, could fully understand.

It was a whole week later before I had the chance to pull him aside and remind him that we needed to talk. He looked down where my hand gripped his arm and I let it go, quickly. He glared at me with cold, numb eyes.

"Fine," he retorted, as if volunteering for a necessary, but particularly unpleasant medical procedure. "When?"

"As soon as possible," I said and we parted ways, going about our various activities for that day. Everything I touched for the rest of that day, felt like Edward, regardless of what it was. Every object reminded me of him and every sound could have come from his piano. I threw myself into Emmett and forced _him_ out of my head until later.

It was night before he came to me; his quiet, even footfalls alerting me to his approach. Of course it was night. He would never come to me during the day. Daylight belonged to her, I had viciously decided.

I retreated to the cellar for most of the evening, looking through some old belongings that I moved from house to house, no matter where we went. Objects of importance to me; little broken fragments of times and events that had altered the shape of my being. As I raked gently through, searching for one object in particular, my fingers traced over everything; each little item jolting my memory.

Pieces of dress material from the night I died. A page from _'The Portrait of Dorian Grey'. _A copy of a record that played one scratchy version of my favourite Debussy song.

A box filled with broken pieces of the past, quite simply.

For though no-one would ever accuse me of being sentimental, I did so often find myself compelled to hold onto little things, strange as they may be. Things that would make sense to so few, but myself. It was necessary to remember, and my memory wasn't all that it needed to be. My fingertips continued to trace over those things.

Broken shards of a mirror smashed by my own hand. Crumbled pieces of a wall Edward and I once broken through. Shrivelled rose petals from the first flower Emmett ever gave me. A torn receipt of the first time Alice bought me something. A small, rusty piece of metal with the tiny words 'stainless steel' engraved on it which Jasper had once used to mingle our dead blood. A tissue with tree sap, sand from my hair, a splinter of wood from a French lighthouse, a snapped piano string, broken rings and endless other objects that would seem appear to be trash to the casual observer.

I was still busily raking through this idiosyncratic paraphernalia when he closed the door behind him, flicking the light switch on.

There was a small moment of quiet as he surveyed what I was doing, my hand still in the box. Then he broke it an unexpectedly soft tone of voice.

"You still collect such things?" He sounded vaguely astonished; perhaps even pleasantly surprised. "I didn't think…"

"You didn't think what?" I cut across him, removing my hand from the box of familiar scraps and representations of my life. "That I would want to remember anymore?"

He inclined his head slightly. I hated knowing he had done that without turning to look see it. His every expression and movement had become something I could detect through a creepy, unwavering sixth or seventh sense. I felt as though we had the majority of our real, genuine conversations with my back to him. Always trying to run away; never succeeding.

"I would understand such an impulse." The earlier coldness in his voice was gone, melted away but there was no real warmth there. Neutral, maybe. Calm. I knew it was fake; the more fraught he really was, the calmer he sounded. With me, at least. "So."

"So," I said, turning to face him. It was so jarring, to look at him when we were properly alone. For a large portion of our time with others, we had developed masks to wear. Illusions, draped in smiles and sparkling eyes. We were masters of disguise to everyone else, but one another. When we were properly alone, without the necessity our family unknowingly demanded, I could see him and he could see me. Really _see_. And it felt strange. Like seeing someone who wore glasses all the time, suddenly without them. His face was naked, his eyes deep and telling though they were obviously trying not to be. "Bella?" I asked, double checking that we actually had this time small amount of time to be alone and honest and say what needed to be said.

"Asleep," he assured me. There was little comfort in that, knowing that he would never leave her in any other state but that of unconsciousness, to see me.

"Good." This was harder than I thought. For though requirement had driven it far away these last few weeks, I could feel…whatever it was…between us, starting to stir once more. Edward seemed to sense it because he took a deep breath and withdrew eye contact.

"I'll go first," he said swiftly. I nodded, waiting. But I wasn't prepared at all for what he actually said. "I think we should tell her the truth."

It knocked the air out of me a little. "Pardon?"

Resolve spread over his features, he had clearly practised what came next because it sounded too well rounded…too rhythmic. "I think we ought to tell Bella the truth about us."

I blinked once, slowly, trying to give him the chance to expand upon such madness so that it would become more understandable. But he seemed disinclined to do so.

"You're serious," I ascertained numbly. "You are _actually _serious."

"Of course," he said, still in that maddeningly logical tone of voice, as if what he was proposing was perfectly simple and reasonable. As if he wasn't suggesting that we rip apart the foundations of our existence…our fragile, but necessary happiness.

"Why?" was all I managed to say.

He kept his eyes averted. "Because I want to be honest with her. I realise it would hurt her to know, but then I wouldn't be lying anymore. She wouldn't tell the others, I'm sure of it."

I shook my head, lips parted in dull revulsion. "You're insane."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are! Can't you see how insane that is? Why would you tell her that? It means….it would means….oh. Ohh, I see."

It meant we could never, _ever_ be together again. Telling Bella would be the nail in the coffin. Permanently. And the last time we every kissed, would be when he was crying…thinking of her. My mind seemed starved of oxygen…every muscle in my body was hot and shuddering; painfully convulsing in protest against the wrongness he was suggesting.

And my soul…if it even existed at this point…my soul screamed into a dark void, pleading for answers and solace. It shook the walls of my bones, the tunnels of places where once blood had run through me. Every molecule of my being felt as though it was being dragged in the wrong direction.

But I didn't faint. I didn't cry or stumble or even scream. I was Rosalie Hale and damn if I was going to break down into tears like some pale faced little love sick puppy.

"Cowardly child," I said, very coldly. The temperature of it brought his gaze snapping back to mine with renewed fire, albeit the flames of premature anger. "Here I was, stupidly thinking you actually wanted to talk about something that would better your future, not destroy it."

A part of me was very much aware at this point that I was being stupid. Encouraging his ridiculous idea would, eventually, mean that he would drive Bella away. Once she knew of the connection between Edward and I, it would be only too easy to make it seem as if this connection was still very much alive. Bella's insecurity would make it impossible for her to be with him, to be around any of us. Edward would return to me with renewed loyalty and reverence. The complication would be gone, removed and not even by my own hand. The guilt would be his…and I could be the one to take it from him, and bear his eternal gratitude.

But I couldn't do that. I just couldn't. And I hated myself for it.

He frowned, reading those thoughts as they occurred to me. "Do you even know the meaning of the word uncomplicated?"

"No," I dismissed swiftly. "And neither do you. Look at what you're trying to do now and tell me that won't complicate things!"

"Exactly the opposite," he assured me, managing to be a little less indifferent now. My presence, my anger…perhaps just myself…was infecting him. I knew this because he was doing the same to me. Getting beneath my skin, beneath any cool exterior I managed to painstakingly build. Bleeding into me, irreversibly. "By telling her the truth, it'll uncomplicated things. I hate lying to her. It tears me apart!"

"And what? I _love_ lying to Emmett?" I demanded hotly. "You're new to this, Edward. Trust me. You can lie to her."

"I will not do to her what I witness you doing to Emmett!" he fairly snarled, and all traces of composure were now tainted with anger, fragmented and torn by antagonism. The impact of his words hit me hard and it took no time at all to discern the insult.

"How dare you look down your nose at me?" I breathed, high pitched with scathing indignation. "You pathetic, juvenile bastard! Who the hell do you think you are to take the high ground, when you were snivelling on my shoulder not three weeks ago about your poor little human!"

If he could have injured me with his eyes, I had no doubt that he would. Yet it did not quell what seemed to be rising up inside me.

"And while we're on the subject of it, Mr Virtuous, I hope you do realise that your sad little attempt to draw out a response from me by threatening to 'tell the truth' notwithstanding, you are actually still betraying her! As much as I am with Emmett! You can give me all the bullshit reasons in the world, but what you're doing to her is no better than what I've done to him so _don't_ stand there with your High and Mighty superiority and think you can shove me into a corner because you've had a morality attack! I know you inside and out, though I wish to God I didn't!"

The world spilled out before I could attempt to censor them and then there was only grim silence. Edward seemed somewhat stunned by my outburst and for a few moments I expected a spiteful retaliation - material for which would not be running short. But his shoulders dropped a little and he shook his head, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

"I know," he sighed, brokenly. "I know." I looked around the room, not fully understanding why, until he came closer. "But Christ, Rose! Can't you understand why I want to do this? I want her to know who I am! I want her to know that and make her choice based on truth, not this idolised version of me she undoubtedly has in her head. It's not healthy, I feel it. Even though I can't read her thoughts, I know she doesn't think a bad thing about me. Gross imbalance, it's not healthy at all."

I laughed. "So you're worried that she loves you too much? That her lack of doubt in you, is a weakness?"

He caught my stare unblinkingly. "What basis for comparison do I have, Rosalie?"

"If you intend to compare her to me, I will be seriously insulted."

"What else can I do? I want this to work between us, and it just feels so….sickly sweet sometimes. Too perfect, to sugary sweet…and I know how terrible it is to say that! As if I don't get enough bitter, cutting darkness from you, right? But I want her to love me and actually love _me_ not some icon of greatness and perfection she has in her mind!"

"Well you can't have it."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You can never have that," I clarified easily. "She will never know you fully, because she will never know about us. So there."

He cocked an eyebrow. "So there?"

"Yes."

"And that's it? You're laying down the law, huh?"

"Because you can't. I can be strong now, because you cannot. And when I'm weak, you'll be strong. Eighty years of the same, intertwined existence and you don't know that?"

"No, I know that. I just didn't think it was so wholly your decision to make."

"Well it is. Besides, have you thought about what it will do to me, as well as you? You think she hates me now? Christ, wait until you tell her that! She'll never look at me again!"

He looked highly doubtful now. "And you'd care? Come on, Rose. You despise her. I would have thought it would be the ideal scenario for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "You think you know me so well."

He folded his arms. "I do."

"You're wrong. It wouldn't be an ideal scenario for me at all. In fact," I hesitated, unsure of what was really about to come out next…only certain that it was true. "I've been thinking about trying to…put all this behind us and try to be nicer to Bella."

His reaction would have been amusing, were the situation not quite so grave.

"Pardon?"

"I think I could do it now. Maybe. It's worth a try anyway. I don't really hate her. I hate what she takes away from me. I hate that she can give you what I never can. But I don't hate her."

He seemed to be frozen in some form of confused apoplexy.

"You….?"

"Is it so hard to believe?" I snapped.

"Yes!" he practically exploded. "And besides…you can't!"

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Because…." he spluttered with little dignity. "Because!"

"Because what?"

"Just….BECAUSE!"

I folded my arms, looking unimpressed. "I'd have thought you'd be pleased."

"_PLEASED?_" he shouted, perhaps unknowingly. "Why the hell would you think that? Why would I be pleased about that?"

I frowned ever so slightly, concerned for the first time. "Why _aren't _you?"

"Because…because it's just too much! I can cope with you hating her, I can cope with her being intimidated by you! I can cope with a lot of things, Rosalie! Not this. The idea of you two being friends…I can't handle it. I don't think I'll ever be able to. It would take a miracle."

"Why?"

"I don't know!" he exclaimed, running a hand distractedly through his already tousled, messy hair. "I never thought of it until just now and all I know is that I cannot deal with that!"

"So…you want me to continue acting like I hate her?"

His eyes pleaded with mine, telling me he knew that was unfair, but he didn't know what else to do.

"Yes."

I contemplated this for a full minute. By the time I'd made up my mind, he already let out a breath he'd been unconsciously holding.

"Thank you, Rose," he breathed. "Thank you."

"Are you still going to tell her the truth?"

He smiled faintly. "Of course not. You know why I said it."

And of course I did.

"Good. She can never know, Edward. It would kill her, you know it."

He nodded solemnly, about to open his mouth and agree when I lifted my hand to his mouth.

"You realise," I said in a very different tone of voice. "That this puts you squarely in my debt, Edward Cullen?"

A small flash of something came and went behind his eyes before he smiled somewhat recklessly.

"I'm sure I'll think of some way to repay you, Miss Hale," he promised.

And we sealed the promise in the way that impulsive, dangerous immortals do best.

* * *

_A/N - Before I start, let me please apologise for the MANY mistakes and errors I know will be in this story. I don't have time to fully correct them all right now as I want to get this up asap. Please be assured I will take the time to look over them soon, it's just that internet access is very rare for me right now and it's something of a miracle that I managed to get it up today at all. I feel this chapter is disjointed and somewhat rushed, perhaps only because I've written it over the last six weeks in bits and pieces. I like this chapter, regardless and hope everyone enjoys. Swear and blood literally went into this, lol. _

_So. _

_For anyone that doesn't know, I've been made homeless by my parents six weeks ago when they found out I was gay. They threw me out, with my little sister too and we're trying to get a flat and some money together. It's going OK, and I think we'll be able to do it, but obviously this has turned my life upside down. This is the reason for such a terrible delay. Let me also just reaffirm that this story is NOT on hiatus. I can still do chapter, even when I'm effectively homeless. I'd also like to thank everyone MASSIVELY for the incredible support and love they've given me over this difficult time. You know who you are my darling and you know how much I love you. _

_Silver linings. I've been nominated for some awards! See my profile page for details. Feel free to vote when voting opens, it's really just an honour to be nominated. _

_So, much as I'd love to stay and chat, my time is about to run out and I want to get this posted. _

_I love you all. Enjoy, review…you know the drill. _

_Bex_

_X x x x x_


	31. Chapter 31: The Breaking of a Thing

**-Chapter Thirty One: The Breaking of a Thing-**

_*_

_With one hand on the hexagram,  
__And one hand on the girl  
__I balance on a wishing well,  
__That all men call the world. _

_- Leonard Cohen_

_*_

Things break apart; they have to, in order for things to change. And everything has to change eventually. Sentient beings that do not change, will self destruct. They have no place in this world.

The means by which things break apart is painful, jarring. But always for the best. Things fall apart and die, but this is only the process of change. Souls wear thin inside old skins and so the skin perishes and dies…the soul is reborn. Change is fulfilled. Everything breaks apart, so it can be rebuilt, better than before.

The method of this change is most closely akin to death. Death, ultimately, is change. Not the end, only the journey to a different viewpoint. A different face in the mirror.

But what if the skin could endure? What if the flesh and bone cage would not wear out and finally capitulate to time and wear? What if immortality maintained the body and thwarted deterioration, age and the otherwise inevitable rotting of such perishable materials?

What would happen to the soul trapped inside? Shielded from rebirth, denied resurrection…would the soul begin to grow weary? Or would it grow angry? Everything has to change; it is the natural way. How then can this immortal body experience the necessary change? If the body cannot be broken apart and started afresh, then logically it falls to the soul. The soul must be broken and remodelled.

But how hard must this immortal smash, for the _soul_ to break apart? What terrible things must they do to achieve this?

The simple answer; death. Murder.

Nothing splinters the soul like murder. Perhaps that is why these strangely beautiful immortals _really_ kill. Not for the bloodlust, but for the internal knowledge that they must adapt. The darkness of such beings knows no depths. Perhaps because they are tunnelling too far down, to a place where light can never touch. Regardless of the cost, something has to break. If nothing breaks, then nothing can change. If nothing changes, then the thing cannot survive. The world changes tirelessly and beings that aspire to remain immortal, must match this change.

If the body will not break, then the soul must.

And if this creature will not kill to achieve this change, then who can even imagine what they must do to their own soul in order to break it apart?

**

* * *

****-Bella-**

Sometimes I forgot how lucky I really was. Lucky to be alive, lucky to be in Forks and be OK with it now. Lucky to have such caring parents. Lucky that people in this town liked me well enough to be friendly. Lucky that I could walk, talk, breathe.

And then there Edward. Lucky didn't really cover it. Luck was something that regular, ordinary people experienced in regular ordinary ways. Finding a ten dollar bill in the street - that was luck.

Looking at him then reaffirmed how 'lucky' I was that he couldn't read my mind, because I would have turned an ever darker shade of beetroot than the one I was currently donning. How…_how_…was he that beautiful? More importantly, the now seeming age old question, _how_ was it that he came to be with me?

Though admittedly not in any way that would ever satisfy the burning, pulsating, entirely too sinful desire that thrummed through me every time he came close. It was like there was always something holding him back. Himself, I suspected. Afraid of hurting me; of accidentally pressing too hard or losing control and then hurting me, but not by accident. I couldn't understand it, myself. There were worse ways to die. Cars, buses, steps, runaway lawnmowers, escaped lions and tigers…none of which could compare to expiring in his embrace.

I promptly shook myself from such dark thoughts. It was unlike me to entertain such musings, particularly macabre ones. Still, I _was_ in love with a vampire. Wasn't I entitled to some level of mysterious, morbid longing?

"Are you alright?"

His voice, cut from velvet and smothered in honey (even my thoughts were brimming with purple prose these days), brought me back to the gloomy, grey day we were surrounded by, only marginally protected from by a tree.

I nodded, knowing that if I were to speak, my voice would embarrass me. My throat spent too much time being closed up these days and whenever I did speak, it was usually in an octave too low or high for it to be anything other than abnormal.

He smiled, not assisting my condition, and leaned over from where he was sitting beneath the tree and touched my face lightly, tracing the tips of his fingers down my cheek sending lemony sweet sensations over my face to resonate in my spine. I shivered, visibly. I had never tried to be cool about how pathetically in love with him I was, so why try and appear in control now?

"You look beautiful in the rain," he commented in an offhand way, as if people said that all the time. "Sorry, by the way. About getting us caught out here."

And he actually looked kind of sorry, which was ridiculous. We were alone, together, trapped by the rain with nowhere to go until it stopped.

"Of course," he went on evenly, looking around the obscured woodland area with amusement. "If _someone_ were to let me carry her, then we could be back at the car by now."

So very, very lucky that he couldn't read my mind and know that I didn't really have that much of a problem with him carrying me.

"It makes me feel sick," I pointed out, stretching the truth as much as possible before it became a lie. "And I hardly think we should spend our one day of proper alone time with you wiping vomit off your chest."

He shrugged elegantly, making me wish I replicate it, knowing I never could. "I've had worse days."

Ah. A segway into things I wanted to know more than trying to find perfectly logical ways of getting him to fall on lips. "Really?" I asked, all alert interest and curiosity. "Like?"

Though it was only a result of staring at him for unhealthy periods of time, I knew that the small blink and readjusting of his shoulders meant he was shutting down a little. Again. I hated when he did this, always when I asked about the past.

He answered me, of course. Nothing if not the perfect, annoying gentleman.

"There was a day with Emmett, the first time he ever killed someone. That was bad."

I wanted him to elaborate, very much. But how to pose such a request? Ask him to relive something that was obviously painful and upsetting, to satisfy my own curiosity? He read my face pretty well, too well perhaps.

"I'm sure you can guess how that would be upsetting and tantamount to being considerably worse than the prospect of having you throw up on me."

"Yeah," I agreed lamely, trying to think of other - less pathetic - methods of delving into his life, his past…him. "But c'mon, Edward. You never tell me anything. You know everything about me now. It's hardly fair."

He smiled crookedly and I momentarily forgot what my mission was. "Ah, Bella," he sighed. "Such determination."

"Well," I pressed, not giving up. "If you won't kiss me, then you can at least gratify my curiosity. Tell me things about you, about your past. Please?"

The small frown was there now. The one when I begged (yes begged, not humiliating at all, huh?) him to kiss me for a period of time longer than five seconds. The frown of contemplating things like 'I-Want-To-But-I-Shouldn't' or 'This-Could-End-Badly-In-Unforeseen-Ways-But-Would-Be-Awesome-If-It-Didn't'. I rolled my eyes in frustration, trying to think of ways to compromise.

"Kiss me then?" I tried, in a throwaway moment of reckless hope.

His eyes turned mildly sympathetic now and I knew I'd lost. "You smell too good in the rain, my love," he seemingly chanted. "Control is a virtue."

"So is making your girlfriend happy," I pointed out crossly, regretting it a little when he looked slightly hurt. "But then I am the happiest girl in the entire world, simply because I have you. I guess a person can be too happy, right?"

He looked away from me, out into the rainy forest. "Yes," he said softly to the trees and not me. "They can."

"So?" I said, scooting closer. "Please tell me something. Anything. I want to know you, inside and out. While we're not being hunted by ruthless vampires, that is."

He smiled effortlessly; I suspected to cover how much that thought genuinely troubled him. He was so difficult to read sometimes and I felt like I was only ever seeing the tip of the iceberg, despite what reassurances he gave. "Very well. What do you want to know, love?"

Faced with the Edward Cullen version of a carte blanche, I froze; uncertain of what to ask. I had a hundred questions about his childhood, his favourite songs, people he disliked, his favourite book; a million stupid humans things that I wanted to know before I found the courage to ask about the inhuman things.

"This would be so easy…"

"-If you could read my mind, I know," I finished, rolling my eyes again. It was true, it _would_ be much easier, but mortifying most of the time. "OK, uh…favourite book?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Something I can actually answer."

I felt silly then, knowing how true it was that such a question was ridiculous. "Alright, alright - don't rush me! I'm thinking. Er….I've got it! Who's your favourite sibling?"

I expected him not to answer such an unfair question and was a little confused as to why I asked it in the first place, but he answered without missing a beat.

"Emmett."

"Not Alice?"

He tilted his head considering. "Only by a fraction less than Emmett. I love them all, of course."

I laughed. "Even Rosalie?"

His smile faltered ever so slightly and I felt bad for saying it. I knew he and Rosalie never got along very well. I hadn't helped this issue in the slightest; Rosalie blatantly despised me and probably Edward, by default. After the incident in Phoenix she now went out of her way to ignore me, as if I really didn't exist in any way shape or form. She and Edward never even looked at one another, let alone spoke. Why did I have to rub it in, when I was causing such problems?

"Yes," he conceded slowly. "Even Rosalie."

"How…how did Rosalie die?" I found myself asking.

Though I had never met anyone paler than Edward Cullen, I swear that he actually blanched. "What?"

"Well, the other day you told me about Alice and James; Carlisle, Esme, Emmett…you never told me how Rosalie died." I tried to envision how it might have happened. I imagined a tragic accident; a collision or something. I waited for him to tell me, oddly curious about the answer.

When he finally decided he was going to answer me, his throat was constricted in a way that advised me what I was about to hear, cost him something to say it.

"Remember that night in the alley?" he asked me, his eyes a little darker. "When I saved you from those…_men_?"

How could I forget? Edward's face as he drove away, how tightly he gripped the steering wheel…his anger, his terrifying fury. "Yes."

"Remember how I saved you? Well I wasn't there to save Rosalie when it happened to her. No-one saved her."

"She was…?" my throat stuck, unable to get the last word completely out.

"Yes," he said through somewhat gritted teeth. "They left her to die, which she would have done, had Carlisle not found her."

I got the distinct impression that, owing to how close I had come to sharing this fate, I'd be wise not to ask any more questions. He got so protective of me sometimes that it was actually frightening. Clearly the subject was too close to home. I wished I'd never asked.

"Sorry," I offered, trying not to sound awkward. "Sorry."

He shook himself and the darkness left his eyes instantly. "Don't be. It was a long time ago."

Not that long, though. Barely two months ago. Yet I supposed that to an immortal who measured time so differently, it seemed longer.

"Tell me something good about you, before you were…when you were still human," I said, in an obvious effort to change the subject.

He smiled and it dispelled all memory of just how dark his eyes had turned. "I was a terribly piano player," he said, his beautiful mouth curling up in amused memory. "Not that such a thing would stop me from hammering away at it for hours."

I laughed, trying to imagine a younger Edward stubbornly playing the piano in an off key way. "What else?"

"Well," he said, sitting up fully onto his knees, pretending to think about it. "I also used to sew handkerchiefs, make jam and marmalade, knit hats and paint landscapes. Quite accomplished, you know."

I laughed again. "You're a terrible liar, Edward Cullen."

His smile widened and he crawled a little closer to me, his teeth gleaming even in the dull grey light. "You've caught me out, Miss Swan."

"That's just a clever way of telling me nothing."

His smile sobered instantly, though the intensity did not leave his eyes. His face was suddenly very close to mine and my treacherously loud heartbeat began to thump excitedly in my chest. "Before you, darling, there's very little to tell."

I whispered, "Somehow, I doubt that."

His lips hovered over mine, I felt his breath ghost over my mouth. "You'd be wrong."

"You're telling me…?" I gulped and tried to recall how to speak. "That before me, there was nothing?"

"You are my life now," he promised, reaffirming words he'd once told me before we parted ways. "That's all that matters to me."

And I was so caught up in how lucky I was that any moment now, his lips were going to touch mine - my worthless, undeserving lips - that I completely forgot my own train of thought, without even bothering to remind myself to resume this conversation again.

Which was, of course, probably his intention all along.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

The music, if nothing else, sympathised. Strange really, how nothing but those well placed minor notes seemed to strike any chord of what was inside. Lying upside down off the side of the bed, I impatiently turned up the volume on the stereo and dared someone to come inside and ask me to turn it down again. My hair grazed the floor, even the though the bed was very high and the sensation was deeply soothing. With no pumping blood to rush to my head, instead I was given a lulling, benign sense of vertigo. Upside down, nothing seemed as bad as it really was.

I should have been ready by now; I should have been ready an hour ago and at this point I was abusing the female prerogative to be late. Everyone (with the notable exception of _someone_) else had been ready hours ago. I, on the other hand, was finding it extremely difficult to even work up the enthusiasm for this abysmal, completely futile soiree. Another party that Carlisle and Esme had been invited to, and we were all obligated by social appearances to go as well. The beautiful Cullen family had to be seen to socialise sometimes. We'd managed to postpone other parties before this and now it was necessary to attend in order to avert suspicion. What would people think we did, if we never left the house but for work and school?

It had been another difficult day. Torn once more between the incessant tumultuous emotions and feelings that raged inside me, I had struggled to find any level of inner calm. The looming obligation to attend this repellent revelry did little to dispel an already deep seated impatience and when Edward announced that he wasn't attending, this bad mood increased dangerously. Following a none-too-serious row with Emmett, I finally agreed to a rickety stalemate, allowing that I could get ready on my own. That had been four hours ago and now it was half past nine and we were going to be very, very late.

My dress - black and silver, knee length, chiffon silk, Armani - was hanging on the wardrobe door, shoes and underwear in a neat little pile beneath it. We would go, stay for an hour and then leave. Simple enough. We'd all have to talk nice and regale them with post graduation plans while Jasper and Alice danced together, or stood in a corner conversing in that strangely intimate little way. Emmett would hold my hand, kiss me in front of everyone and whisper in my ear about how he couldn't wait to get me out the beautiful garment. Carlisle and Esme would do a fantastic job of acting human and maintaining the façade we all relied upon so heavily. We would laugh and socialise and do a plausible job of convincing them we were nice, normal (if painfully beautiful) humans.

Only I didn't want to. All motivation seemed to have fled, leaving me ambivalent and indifferent in it's wake.

My thoughts were disjointed and completely unnecessary. Masochistically so, really. Comparison was one of the worst things I did, and I hated it. Genuinely despised that it was _still_ an automatic response between them, but that did not alter the helplessness of it. Once I consciously tried - really tried - not to do it, suddenly it was all I could do. It was like being told not to think about elephants. A trick I had still not mastered.

I was thinking about sex. Well, not like that. The basic mechanics, really. General principals. More accurately, I was thinking of how Emmett felt when he was with me. How he held me, kissed me…the general physicality. It was beautiful, being with Emmett. Truly beautiful. I was bathed in blissful warmth, safety and love. Happy and heavenly and just…wonderful.

And then, of course, the helpless comparison. The God damned completely unwanted comparison.

Edward, needless to say, was different. Not in any way that was worthy of mental articulation, except….the way we seemed to just _fit_ together. Like pieces of something broken that had been separated for a long time and the edges were blunt and faded, but the basic shape was still there. We fit together in ways that we shouldn't have because sex was _supposed_ to be clumsy and messy and honest, bumping elbows and laughing together. Learning and experiencing, mistakes and trust and everything that was encompassed in a normal relationship. With Edward, there had never been any of that. We'd just…slipped into being the same person with graceful ease. Unnatural, almost. How could two people fit together like that, if indeed they weren't broken pieces of the same, previously whole, object?

Urgh. I hated that I _thought_ in purple prose now. An inevitable outcome of having unlimited time to read and learn, I guessed.

But then again, if I was continuing down that ridiculously distressing vein of thought, it wasn't even just sex. We fit together in everything physical. The way our mouths fit together too perfectly, like they were designed for it. His fingers knew _exactly_ where and how light to trail over my skin and I knew precisely where to kiss his neck to elicit that beautiful, raw sound from the back of his throat. It wasn't his telepathy - it was too reciprocal, too deeply ingrained. Even when we would just lay together, foreheads resting close, knees together, touching hands making a small world out of the space between our bodies…even then, everything just fit.

That wasn't to say that everything, or indeed, anything was perfect. Far from it. Simply, the symmetry of our bodies and soul was startling sometimes. I wondered if that was how he felt with Bella, though I had to doubt it.

My sympathy for Bella hadn't increased, but it hadn't disintegrated either. Instead of being allowed to express any truthful sentiment towards her and regain some respect from my family, I was required to continue the _'jealous/selfish/bitch-of-the-century' _act, preventing the collision of Edward's two worlds.

I ignored her, in what I supposed was a cold, arrogant manner. Alice chided me for it constantly, trying to point out her many (apparent) virtues. I even saw some of them occasionally, but was bound by my promise not to let on or let up.

Charades, we all knew, were an important aspect of our lives.

"Rose!" Emmett called up the stairs. "Babe, do _not_ make me come up there!"

"Five minutes!" I lied smoothly. "Just finishing up."

Hardly. I hadn't even begun to get dressed yet. It wasn't even like I could pretend I was ill or suffering from time of the month syndrome. Sometimes, being immortal had more trivial downsides the catastrophically dramatic ones.

"I'll bet," was his dry response.

Finally I decided I was being intensely childish and I got up from the bed, turned the music off and began to get dressed. It was an important process, if a very routine one. I could probably do it in the dark.

The dress was too stunning for the likes of Forks. A waste, even though it was my most conservative dress. Perhaps I could persuade Emmett to take me to the city later tonight and stay in hotel. Actually, that sounded too good to be a mere suggestion. An impromptu weekend away from here would do me good, even though we were leaving in a month. The situation was bordering on unbearable now. Time and distance were the only solutions to what I felt and what I was certain, despite his watertight façade, Edward was feeling too.

Somewhere along the line we had become people so different than that of our origins, that the damage seemed irreversible. Nothing could be fixed or made better, even by fighting and screaming at one another. A nasty, asphyxiating moratoria had settled in all around and nothing but avoidance and distance could lessen the tension.

Once I was dressed, another forty minutes later, I looked one last time in the mirror. I looked flawless, but it was a lie. I was anything but flawless. I was a broken, treacherous being who was sharp and cutting, hurting people on the jagged edges of her own destruction. But it would suffice.

"Hardly any point in going now," Jasper commented as I strolled down the stairs, but he winked at me as I passed him and I gave him a small smile.

"Everyone ready then?" I asked sweetly, and ignored as my family, all but one, rolled their eyes.

* * *

**-Bella-**

I was losing the battle to exasperated resignation, and I knew it. The mirror wasn't going to change it's tune and show me anything wonderful anytime soon, so why was I even bothering? That same plain face stared back, eyes on the verge of rolling. Pale faced, dark haired Bella Swan. Nowhere, any evidence of what exactly the most beautiful creature in all the history of existence saw in me.

Maybe it was a personality thing. If it wasn't my looks (and that was likely) then it had to be the personality, right? But even then, what exactly was so attractive? I wasn't outgoing, funny, witty. I didn't have a chime bell laugh or a stunning vocabulary. I was withdrawn, shy and quiet and extremely prone to life-threatening prat falls.

Back to square one, then.

Eventually I would give up and stop questioning the miracle. It would just be nice to know exactly what I had done at some point or another to deserve him.

"If you stare long enough, the devil will jump out and grab you."

I jumped a foot in the air and my hand flew to my chest. "Holy Crow!" I gasped, and my welcome intruder laughed softly.

"You're antiquated beyond your years, Bella. I've never heard anyone use that expression, and I'm on my way to having a centennial."

"Yeah…well….you scared the _living daylights _out of me!" I stuttered, blushing furiously. He slipped off my windowsill like a piece of falling silk and made himself comfortable on my bed as had become our odd little ritual. "You could knock or something!"

He looked genuinely concerned for a moment. "Should I not have…?"

"No!" I said immediately regretting it, forgetting how damned sensitive he could be about my stupid wellbeing. "It was just…I was only kidding."

He smiled and the worry seemed to vanish, though I knew it was only retreating somewhere until it became prominent and necessary once more. "What were you staring at in the mirror?"

"A lack of reasons why you're with me," I sighed and gave in, sitting next to him leaning in for a kiss.

A kiss which was far too fleeting to be anything but unsatisfying and frustrating. Sometimes it felt like he was keeping me in a box, until he thought I was ready. If only he knew how ready I was.

"Ridiculous," he dismissed lightly. "As always."

"How was your day?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.

He sighed, the sound of it was too beautiful to even acknowledge. "Dull," he said, staring at me in that unblinking way. "Until now."

"What did you do?" I pressed, trying to break his habit of being overly vague. He sat on the edge of my bed, patiently waiting for me to go about my evening ritual before we could commence our time together.

"I read, I played piano a little. I waited for the sun to set so I could come to you. What did you do?"

"Just another boring Saturday really. Housework, cooking, daydreaming about a kiss that lasts more than a nanosecond."

He laughed and I closed my eyes, savouring the gentle, gravely sound as it bubbled through him. "No problem. Stop being so breakable and I'll get right on it. You make it sound as if it's disinterest on my part."

He was teasing now, which meant he'd had a worse day than he had let on. "Isn't it?" I asked, not really paying attention to what I was saying now. I was trying to guess what had happened during the course of his day while grabbing a pen and hastily finishing an answer I had been writing for Biology. I didn't hold out much hope for receiving high grades with this paper; I was somewhat distracted.

"Hardly," he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Given half a chance and any less self control, you'd be prying me away from you with a crowbar."

A warm, electrical current of desire rippled through me, starting in my chest and resonating in my stomach. I was suddenly lost in imagining him kissing me, of him losing control and not being able to stop kissing me. His hands tangled in my hair, lost in passion and need, a small groan tearing from his throat…

"Bella?" he asked suddenly jolting me from my beautiful, highly unlikely reverie. "Are you alright? Your heartbeat is accelerated."

"Oh shut up," I grumbled, good-naturedly; I then looked down at the pen in my hand and flushed beetroot when I realised I had unconsciously written down part of my improbable reverie. "I was somewhere so nice."

"Far from me?"

"_Glued _to you, actually," I admitted, not really caring how that made me sound. Sometimes the frustration was unbearable. I knew he was concerned for my safety, but I wasn't made of glass. I could withstand a hell of a lot more than he allowed me to experience, would he only trust himself just a little. "It was wonderful." I crossed out the embarrassing mistake, making an already doomed portion of my paper seem even more hopeless.

He gave me a look. "I might not be able to read your mind, but I'm starting to suspect that it's a little bit one tracked."

"Well as you refuse to play the part of the sex obsessed boyfriend, I guess it falls to me, doesn't it?"

And I'd done it again. His face sobered instantly and his posture adjusted from casual to tense once more. It was infuriating, trying to placate his ridiculous sense of unnecessary chivalry.

"Sorry," I attempted to counteract, hoping that it wasn't too late. "I was kidding." He sighed and mumbled something under his breath, inaudible to me as always. I rose from the desk and sat beside him, feeling the gentle waves of cool radiating from his stony cold body. "Hmmm?" I asked, not holding out the slightest hope that he would repeat whatever he had muttered.

"I said," he breathed, running his fingertips down my face. "Not everything is about sex."

I laughed, almost choking on the bittersweet sensations zinging through my face, all the way down my spine. "_Nothing_ is about sex," I corrected. "I'm too fragile."

He kissed me gently, as he always did and before I could tell myself to stay calm, my blood was on fire. Ripples of desire churned into waves without the slightest hesitation and I threw my arms around his neck, running my fingers up his neck, into his hair. He let out a small, unintended groan and I marvelled at the heightened sensuality that hummed in the air when he did that.

I had mentally counted seven seconds before he broke it. Pulling away, his mouth set in a fixed line and his eyes more shuttered than I had seen them in days. Resignation slammed home again and I shook myself. "Edward, what's wrong? And don't insult my intelligence and say it's nothing when I know it's not."

His eyes were bottomless; my attempts to penetrate them were failing dismally. After some consideration he seemed to come to the conclusion that telling me the truth was the best course of action.

"There was a disagreement."

"Between?"

"Myself and Rosalie."

I cringed internally, hating the trouble I inevitably caused for Edward and his sister, Rosalie. He sometimes had to remind me that her hostility was born of envy. Though why Rosalie should have any earthly reason to envy me, was well beyond my comprehension.

"About me?" I guessed.

"No," he said, shaking his beautiful head so that some of his hair moved and my breath caught in my throat. He made an obvious attempt at pretending he hadn't noticed it and went on to explain. "There was a party tonight, I was invited to go and I didn't. Rosalie takes everything too personally. Like I'm declining to spite them, or like I'm making an exclusive choice or something. She's the only one who doesn't get that being with you does not mean ending what we have."

I knew he loved his family a great deal and that he would never jeopardise what he had with them.

"You should have gone, if it means that much to them."

"Oh no," he said with a bitter smile. "Only Rosalie. No-one else was too concerned."

"Why was she concerned?"

"Family is very important to Rosalie; by not attending the event, however mundane, she takes it as a declaration of loyalty. I'm stating my allegiance…apparently."

"But you're not, it's obvious that you're not!" I exclaimed, as if somehow saying it out loud meant his uncompromising sister might hear me. "I'm your girlfriend!" Oh how unspeakably wonderful _that_ felt. "You're going to spend time with me, it's expected."

He shrugged as if the answer were obvious. "But that's very new for them. You have to understand, darling Bella, that right now - time with you means time away from them. With everyone else, they're all family anyway. Rosalie and Emmett leave for a while sometimes, but they always come back. With you, it's just different."

It was strange, for him to speak in what was obviously a truthful manner and not try and dress it up to protect me. It could even be interpreted as hurtful, to someone else a little less thrilled just to be in his presence.

"So she resents me for taking you away?" I attempted to clarify.

He laughed and stroked my hair back. "A little dramatic perhaps, but essentially correct. I suppose she sees it as something that was once whole and is now broken. Our family unit, in her eyes, is now split. I wouldn't concern yourself though. Her reasoning is rooted in selfishness and little else."

I loved when he forgot who he was talking to and he let his antiquated speech flow into his well practised contemporary dialogue. I could have let him ramble on all night and day; he could have been reading from an instruction manual for all I cared…his voice, his tone…dear me.

"What about everyone else, what do they think of me?"

"You know they all love you."

"No, I mean what do they think about the situation? How do they feel about me taking you away from them?"

He seemed torn between a reassuring lie and the truth. Again. Always so preoccupied with my safety; mental and physical. He settled for the truth, though it obviously made him uneasy.

"It's a big change for everyone," he admitted. "It doesn't lessen how much they all adore you. Just the situation in general requires adjustment."

I nodded, hoping that was the full truth and not subject to some little omission he had deemed privately necessary for my fragile benefit.

"Hopefully," I put in, half joking. "I'll be one of your family soon and then there won't be a fracture at all."

"Bella," he admonished, frowning ever so slightly. "You know how I feel…"

"Yes, yes - I am well away of your circular thoughts on the subject of my mortality." Hah. He wasn't the only one who could read a dictionary.

"Are you going to finish your homework?" he asked, not looking away from me.

"Uh, I think it's vaguely doomed."

He got up from the bed, gracefully and smoothly. Before I knew it, he was leaning over me to read my pitiful attempt at academic success. "Nothing is doomed," he murmured warmly. I shivered inevitably and it was far too obvious for my liking, but there was no stopping my reactions to him. Why even bother?

And just when I looked around to ask him what he thought I could use to flesh this answer out, his lips were pressed to my ear and the pen fell out of my hand.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

The rush of emotions to my head made me instantly dizzy; the lust and desire flooded through me, erasing every trace of worry and stress from my body and mine. Hands clutched at my own, fingers twisting together and lips dragging up the length of my neck back to my mouth.

My beautiful husband groaned against my skin, the reverberations of his deep, rumbling desire passing into me.

I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist, fully losing myself in him as much as possible. He held me up effortlessly and when my back hit the wall, I knew there would be a bill for damages. Oh well.

"Told you…hotel was…a…good…idea," I managed to get out, speech punctuated unevenly as my breath caught in my throat with each deepening love bite applied there.

"You're full of them," he growled, caught up in the spiralling passion, his hands sliding everywhere but where I wanted them and his hesitation was unexpected, given the tone of his voice, the heat from his body and…other indications.

"Nice to…get away," I bit out, my eyes rolling back slightly as his tongue traced the curve of my ear.

"From?"

I frowned a little, unwanted confusing cutting through the lustful haze that had been previously blocking all those nagging thoughts and worries.

"What?" He didn't stop kissing me and I knew I should let it go, but it was the way he said it. A little too rough to be wholly appropriate to the scenario. Even for us. "What do you mean?"

I was heavily out of breath already, even though it remained as unnecessary as the night I died. But his lips never left my neck and I had to pull him away to get him to even look at me. A shock of terror bolted through me suddenly as his eyes met with mine because despite how irrational it was, whenever he was angry with me I always assumed the worst.

And he _was_ angry with me.

"Forget it," he dismissed, his usually playful eyes hard and dark; an attempt to mask that he was upset or worried about something. Or in this case, plain angry.

"What? You resent me for being thrilled to have some away time?"

He smiled bitterly. I hated it when he was angry; he was always the best at keeping his temper, therefore when he lost it, the reasoning behind it was serious. "Away from who, Rose?"

I glared at him, fully shoving him away now, not bothering to right myself or my clothing which was dramatically askew. "You're being stupid."

"Yeah, that's right. Stupid, gullible Emmett who'll never doubt you, never hurt you, right Rosalie?"

That caught me off guard. I struggled to recall being spoken to like that by Emmett. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I know why you want to come to a Goddamned hotel so you can be with me!"

"Well let's hear it then!"

His mouth opened as if about to say it, but he faltered and looked away, pain lancing through his features. "You don't need to hear it."

"Oh spit it out!" I shouted recklessly, balanced on a terrible knife's edge. Backing down would seem like guilt, but pushing him could force him to acknowledge something that might actually destroy us. It had happened too fast and I wasn't prepared to do anything but blindly, irritably deny whatever he was about to hurl at me.

He fixed me with his most deadly serious stare and I felt like a child again, caught with a torn dress half an hour before a party.

"It's Edward, isn't it?"

Though there was a clear, evident question mark in his words - it was equally clear that he required no clarification or validation from me. I couldn't move, couldn't function…nothing moved, nothing seemed alive. The whole thing was vaguely reminiscent of a nightmare. A terrifying, surreal situation that offered no escape.

And that part of my mind took over.

"Of course it's Edward."

* * *

**-Bella-**

It was over way too soon for my liking, like a beautiful dream fading away before my eyes. The pressure was gone from my lips, his hand removed from my face and I was alone again. Bella Swan again.

He sighed and my heart sped painfully. He bent down and picked up the pen, placing it neatly back on the table, perpendicular to the ruined homework.

"Neat freak," I accused weakly.

He shrugged and went to the window. Fleeting panic speared through me and for one moment I thought he was actually leaving. But he was, in fact, closing the curtains. This was nothing new; I always assumed the very worst about the seemingly tenuous, utterly breakable dream relationship we shared. It felt like a bubble, ready to pop at any given moment.

"So," he said, in tone far too casual to be anything but purposeful. "How's your leg today?"

I grimaced inwardly, hating where this would inevitably lead. Edward's concern and his love for me were two different things in my mind. When he managed not to be horrifyingly anxious, everything was amazing. Literally _everything_. A terrible day could be made into something beautiful, just because of him. Simply because he was happy to be in my presence; relaxed and happy.

But then these were admittedly rare occasions. Edward's primary concern was my safety and this made for a vast amount of frustration on my part. Sometimes the frustration would solidify into recklessness and I would try to push his limits…try to get him beyond thinking about my safety. It had yet to work though. He was wary of anything I tried to cook up in my feverish, desire-addled mind.

So voicing his concern for my leg wasn't entirely welcome.

"Totally fine," I said immediately, with impressive credibility. "Not even a twinge."

He raised one eyebrow a fraction. Even that was distractingly sexy. "Bella," he intoned slowly. "Do you know how many liars I've encountered? How many lies _I've_ _told_?"

"It's the truth!" I lied outright and even as I spoke, my stupid, treacherous leg gave a painful throb. But then his words caught up to me and I frowned. "Hang on…lies _you've_ told?"

It hadn't really ever occurred to me that my perfect, upright, noble Edward would ever lie or especially that he would tell multiple lies. The fact that he just admitted it, through rhetorical questions, was slightly jarring.

His eyes were flawlessly glazed and then I realised that I shouldn't be so shocked that he had told lies; I had seen him do it a hundred times before. His beautiful depthless eyes…when they glazed over like that, that meant he was lying. I just rarely allowed myself to notice it.

"Everyone lies," he told me, smoothly. "Even you."

I knew he meant about my myriad injuries, but somehow the way he said it sent a somewhat cold shiver down my spine. And cold wasn't a sensation I'd come to associate with Edward, despite his body temperature.

A split second before I could attempt to voice my feelings on the matter, he was smiling that beautiful smile that I spent days waiting and hoping to see. That smile that readily erased all my fears and icy worries with a warmth that radiated from within his soul. A warmth that might, if I was lucky, become a prelude to something resembling heat. Though I severely doubted it. His smile seemed more likely to be used as a method of distracting me. I realised again, with a jolt, that there was much he kept from me by way of an ever welcome deception.

"What do you lie about?" I pressed, trying not to be swayed by his mesmeric smile.

It stayed on his face, but slipped a little from his eyes. "Things that would upset people. Things that would make people unhappy."

"Such as?"

"Bella," he said softly and I shuddered just to hear it. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm…I don't know!" I exclaimed, inexplicably frustrated all of a sudden by his sheer ability to alter the basis of everything, simply by smiling and lowering his tone. "Sometimes it feels like you're a million miles away and I can't even touch you!"

He laughed gently. "That's ridiculous. I'm right here."

I wrapped my arms around myself. "But sometimes you're not. You get this look on your face and it's…you're not here."

Seemingly unfazed by my feeble, poorly worded accusations, he tilted his head slightly. "So where am I then?"

"I don't know," I choked, running a hand through my hair because I didn't know what else to do with my hand. "But wherever it is…it's not here with me, that's for sure! There's still so much I don't know about you Edward and I can't…I can't keep acting like it's OK to start off like this. I know what we've been through means we get to skip a lot of preliminary stuff but you're so closed off sometimes and you make it all about me! Well it's not all about me, and if I wanted it like that I'd stay single and marry myself, wouldn't I? I want to be with you and I want it to work but it's not going to work if you won't even talk to me!"

When I took a breath, I realised I'd raised my voice far too much. Straining to hear, I waited for any indication that Charlie had heard my rant, but there was nothing. By some grace of God, he hadn't heard it. Lost in sleep after his beers and fish fry perhaps.

I looked back at Edward and with a jolt, realised I'd hurt him. Not in some inadvertent way by injuring myself and causing massive guilt. No, this time I'd actually hurt him. It was all over his face, written in his eyes…etched in every feature I'd so painstakingly memorised every moment I was away from him. My heart clenched painfully and I couldn't draw in a breath. I wanted to explode with apologies and regrets, pleading him to understand that I didn't mean it and please forgive me and please don't leave me.

But another part of me said stay strong, so I waited and held my breath.

"I…"he trailed off, looking as lost and as young as I'd ever seen him. "I didn't know you felt like that."

"Why would you know? I didn't know until just now," I breathed, unable to believe I was questioning this miracle in front of me. _Going To Lose Him-Going To Lose Him! _My heart pounded the same little rhythm over and over again.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, after what seemed like an eternity. "You're right. I want this to work however you want it to and if that's how you want it, then that's completely fine."

Suddenly, my righteous anger dissipated all too fast and the sensation was somewhat akin to having the rug yanked out from beneath me. I'd been just getting into my stride and he'd barely even fought back. Though considering my father was asleep down the hall, that was possible a good thing. It was a new sensation, genuine anger and frustration. In all honesty, I was a bit disappointed that it was leaving so soon.

"Good," I said in what I hoped was a firm voice. "Because it can't carry on like this. You have to be completely open with me. I want to know everything, Edward. Not just what you decide to tell me. I want every scrap of truth, every secret…every terrible thing. I want to love every part of you, good or bad. Not just what you decide to show me."

Caught in the throes of terror and genuine panic, I prayed to any God listening that he wasn't about to do a 180 and walk out of my life for good. But that tiny little voice sustained itself with this fear. _Stay Strong, _it chanted, telling me I was doing completely the right thing.

He came closer to me, the coolness of his body touched my skin even though there was a foot of space between us. "You can have whatever you want of me, Bella. Whatever you want, it's yours."

The anger spiked again and I remembered something else that had annoyed me earlier. "And another thing!" I said, managing to take a step backwards. "You can't just win arguments by…by doing…._that!_"

Amusement flashed behind his eyes. "By doing what?"

"You know perfectly well what!" I hissed, though it didn't have enough flare to be really threatening. "Stop thinking you can just turn me into a big quivery pile of shivery goo and I'll forget whatever I was about to say!"

"Whatever you want," he told me, eyes genuine.

"And another thing!" I said, feeling that if I was on this path of madness, I might as well go all the way. "It would be nice to hear what _you_ want, for a change. All I ever hear is whatever I want, all about me blah blah blah! I want this to be a two way street, you know? I want to know what you want too." He was perfectly still and silent for a good twelve seconds before nerves got the better of me and I asked, in a much more timid tone of voice, "So…what do you want then?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious," he murmured.

"Oh come on, Edward! I wasn't always in your life. You can't tell me that after two months of knowing me, every other thing in your life has come to a standstill."

"It has." No room for argument in _that_ statement. The vocal equivalent of putting his foot down.

"Oh come on! You're just telling me the same thing over and over again! Never anything new. It's like you're keeping me in this little box and I'm not allowed to see or know anything outside of it. But I'm ready to, I _want_ to! I don't care if it's bad I just want to know you the way you know me."

A dry smile painted his beautiful face. "You might not feel the same way if I was as forthcoming as you're demanding."

"But at least I'd be making an informed decision, wouldn't I?"

He actually seemed to consider it for a while and during that time, I even allowed myself to think that I'd made some kind of point. But when he spoke, I could hear that he'd found a way out, before he even said it.

"Bella," was the death knell of my dashed hopes. "I know it's hard for you, in so many ways right now. I know you're probably having fears and doubts and yes, I agree. In any normal relationship it would be good to tell each other every single little detail. However, in this instance I cannot."

"Why?" I demanded, a little too harshly.

"Not for the reasons you think. You're so much stronger than I am, Bella. Look at you standing there, so open and honest. I'm not as strong as you are and because of this weakness, I can't just rip myself open and let you see what's inside. I…I'm too selfish and the thought of losing you is terrifying."

Guilt hit me hard, right in the chest. "Oh," I sighed. "Oh Edward I'm sorry! I didn't mean…you could never lose me! There's not a single thing you've done that could make me stop loving you, I swear!"

He laughed bitterly. "You have no idea."

I took his hand in mine and drew him closer. "Look at me," asked, softly. For some reason, he flinched when I said that, but obliged all the same. "I don't give a damn about what might be lurking in your past. Murder or whatever…it doesn't bother me. I can wait to hear and learn about it, I won't push you. But I want to you to trust me, Edward. Stop being so over protective. I'm not made of glass, OK?"

"So you're still not running for the hills yet then?" he asked, a spark of the old amusement detectable once more.

I shrugged. "Give me time to pack first," I sighed and then laughed, feeling some, but not all, of the tension leave my back and shoulders.

He pulled me into his arms where I gratefully wrapped myself around him and held him close. He whispered into my hair and I smiled and his totally unnecessary need for reassurance about the most basic and obvious thing.

I managed to dismiss most of my concerns and tension that night, spent with my amazing, beautiful, immortal boyfriend and I tried to stay awake for as long as humanly possible. When that failed, I allowed myself to fall into dreams…dreams which I would never recall the next day or any day after it, but dreams that would echo with a barely detectable sense of De Ja Vu anytime I saw anyone with long, golden hair.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

*

"Of course it's Edward."

The statement was devastating. An all encompassing declaration that would shatter my world apart and the world of everyone I loved. The revelation of a secret so destructive that nothing would be left intact in the wake of the blinding, horrific truth.

My husband, God my beautiful, amazing husband…I saw him so clearly in those moments. I could see him standing there and I could see it in his eyes. The pain those words caused. The pain, the betrayal that shocked through him. It was so clear to me now how much he loved me. It had never been more obvious. Emmett stared at me like I was about to destroy him and he loved me too much to stop me.

The knife's edge shook and threatened, and I would have to fall; one side or the other. The truth was staring us in the face now and I had to decide.

The decision was far more difficult than it should have been.

"Who else would destroy our family in such a way?" I scathed with impressive fury and his eyes narrowed fractionally. "Who else would do this to us?"

That small part of me, admittedly _very _small, that had actually wanted the truth to finally come out…that part of me shook her head in disgust and shame. More lies to maintain the original lies. Another chord in the tangled web of despair and betrayal and a love too dark to ever see the light of day.

"What?" he demanded sharply.

"Of course it's Godamned Edward!" I practically screamed. "He's driving me insane, why wouldn't I want to leave to be alone with you? All that he's doing…his pathetic little allegiances, making his point about who's more important; it makes me sick!"

Now he looked disbelieving. "You're telling me that's the only reason you want to be away from him?"

I sneered. "Other than the fact he's acting more repugnant than usual, why else?"

"Maybe you're jealous, Rose."

I was no stranger to anger and it came naturally to act thusly. "Excuse me?"

"Maybe you're a little jealous of Bella. Maybe you can't stand to see her with Edward!"

I grabbed the nearest table lamp and threw it at the wall where it shattered spectacularly, denting the already damaged wall even further. "How dare you say that? How dare you throw that in my face? Because she's human and I'm not? You think I'm not aware of that?"

He blinked, the first sign of weakness. "No, that's not what I…"

"-and you're using that against me? How can you even say that to me? You think I don't _know_ that?"

"Damn it Rosalie don't you _dare_ use this as an excuse to turn it all around!" he shouted. "You know damned well what I'm talking about! Everyone else might fall for your amateur dramatics, but I know you too well! You're jealous because of Edward and you know it! Tell me why!"

"You think I'm…what? In _love_ with him or something?" I gasped.

He started, the words seeming to cause him genuine pain. "No I…there's something, Rose and I've known it for a while now. I don't know what it is, but I know it exists no matter what anyone else tells me. There's something between you two and it's time you told me what it is!"

I had gone past any tolerance for pain at this point. I'd stopped taking it in when I'd started screaming at him. Later, I would let it filter in slowly and process the evil I was committing. But if I let it in before, I'd probably lose my mind. And I had to stay strong for Emmett. He couldn't know, he just couldn't.

When he spoke, his voice was softer, though far more heartbreaking. "I'll still love you, Rosalie. I'll always love you no matter what you do, even though I shouldn't. Just please don't lie to me anymore."

I tasted icy cold sugar in my mouth, though I wasn't aware I had begun to cry. When he turned his head away from me, I saw glittering trails down his beautiful cheeks, illuminated by the moonlight from outside and realised he was crying too.

I wiped my eyes and took a breath.

"Emmett," I tried, but most of the strength had left me and I faltered.

"No," he intercepted. "Tell me. I need to know, Rose. Tell me."

My mouth was functioning without the permission of my mind and nothing I could do seemed to stop it.

"Before we were together," I croaked numbly. "Before I even knew you existed, there was Edward."

He closed his eyes, acknowledging what I was about to say. "OK," he said slowly and so softly, it might have been a whisper. "Go on."

"I hated him," I recalled, truthfully. "I genuinely despised him. He was so arrogant and cold. Everything he said or did seemed to mock me somehow. He never acknowledged that I was beautiful. Never said my name. Never touched me. To him, I was a liability. Nothing more."

I paused, lost momentarily in just how real that had been. The madness was never ending.

Emmett prompted me further. "And then?"

"And then something changed," I said shakily, because this was out of my control now. I was altering absolutely everything and it wouldn't just affect me. But it was unstoppable and something inside of me was pushing for it. Begging me to go on and just get it done. No more lies, no more deceit and treachery. "I was…attracted to him, I suppose. Though it's not really the word."

Though my eyes were closed, I heard him swiftly intake a sudden breath like he'd been slapped. I went on, simply because I couldn't stop.

"Something was between us. Something neither of us really wanted or understood. It began out of hatred, maybe. But then it changed again. He…we both started to care. He came with me the night I murdered Royce King. He offered to do it for me. It was never love, I know that much. But still, there was something."

I knew he was crying outright now, as silently as possible and with his back to me. I couldn't open my eyes, or I would simply break apart.

And once again, something shifted and control was altered.

"Until you," I breathed. "Until I found you that night in the woods. I knew, looking at you there and then that I loved you. There was no rhyme or reason for it. No logic as to why I should love you, dying on the ground. But I fell in love with you and I've never fallen out of love since. Before you I was broken and hollow and Edward just…filled that space. But you…you made me whole. You made me _feel _again. I never though I would have that, I certainly didn't think I deserved it. Not like this. It ended the day you died and were born again. I love you and nothing will ever alter that. I never loved Edward, I swear. And he never loved me. We were alone and broken and dark creatures. He loves you, and I think he's grateful that you came along because what would happen if we'd just carried on? It was doomed from the start, we could never make the other happy. We weren't capable of it. It was solace and desperation and something bordering on hatred. I have never loved a single thing on this planet like I adore you. You are my life, Emmett. Without you I'm just…I'm nothing."

He took a shuddering breath and it broke my heart even more.

"You still have…_feelings_ for him?"

"Not like that, no. It's just that being around him reminds me of what I was before you. How dark and desperate and…stupid I was."

"Carlisle knows, doesn't he? Esme too."

I had underestimated him too much. "Yes, they knew about it at the time and they'll verify it if you don't believe me. It ended the day I first clapped eyes on you though it never really started anyway. It was nothing."

"So why do you hate Bella so much?"

I unstuck my throat and shook my head. "I don't hate Bella. That's the whole point. I'm happy he has her, because it means we can finally let go and move on from what we were. I'm jealous of her because of what she has and how lucky she is. She can have babies and live her life in ways I can't. I don't hate her, but it's easier just to be away from them and be wrapped up in you. You're all I want." My voice broke and more tears spilled over. "You're all I could ever want and I…I love you so much, I do. I really do. You're everything, more than I ever deserved. That night when I saved you? It was really you who saved me. You saved me from myself, from throwing away this life and becoming something bad. You came and you saved me. You were _my_ angel. There is nothing but you. No-one but you. And I'm so sorry that I've hurt you again because you are the last person I would ever want to hurt and you have to believe me."

"I…I don't know what to do."

"Believe me."

Another shaky breath and I opened my eyes in time to see him nod once. "I do."

I didn't let the relief wash through me; I postponed it, viciously denying myself any sense of undeserved happiness. "Baby," I said, moving over to him. "Baby look at me." He turned, wiping his eyes as he did. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I should have told you. I see that now. But it's so far from being relevant that it doesn't even matter. Not when you're here…nothing matters when you're here. You're everything." I put my hand on his heart and he looked so sad it tore me apart. "This is you in there," I whispered, leaning in close, touching my forehead to his. I took his hand and put it to my chest, wet with tears. "And this is me and we're the same. We're the same, my darling. Nothing will alter that."

"And Edward?" he breathed, beginning to lean into me. "What about Edward?"

"Edward has Bella," I whispered, pulling him by the waist into me even further, our noses brushing. "And I have you. That's all there is to it. The past is gone, old and dusty and untouched for years. It's long gone and you're right here with me. There is nothing but you. Nothing."

"You promise?"

"I swear it to you."

What remained of my soul, refused to even look at me as I kissed him. Such unspeakable lies mingled with the truth; poison laced with sugar so he would swallow it. But what else could I do? I loved him so much that it hurt. I could never do that to him. He could never find out.

He cried as he kissed me; desperate wet kisses that I'd never come to associate with my husband. My strong, wonderful husband who could withstand anything…I'd done this to him. Reduced him to tears. I had never hated myself so much.

"Rose," he muttered against my lips. "Rose, I can't."

The contact was gone all of a sudden and I felt hollow and cold in ways that terrified me. "What?"

"I just…I don't think I can…I need some space."

Space? There had never been space between us. We were always close, even when we were miles apart. Always together, always close and touching. Space was never a factor in our relationship. Even when we fought, it was always close and angry and in each other's faces.

"What do you mean?" I croaked as the world vanished from beneath my feet.

"I need some time and distance I think," he said, refusing to meet my gaze. "Alone."

"But…"

He held up his hand to forestall my attempts and turned away. The bottom dropped out of my stomach and my already cold blood, turned to ice water. He had turned away…turned away from me.

The door closed behind him and it was at least eighty seconds before everything caught up to me, and I fell to my knees, unable to cry…unable to breathe…unable to do anything. It came in a rush of choking, ripping despair. The shock was overwhelming, the fear was in every part of my body crippling it. My arms curled around myself and my head dropped down until my forehead touched the floor, my hair in a mess all around me but I couldn't see it. I couldn't see anything.

It took much less than eighty seconds, however, for all of that to solidify into a terrifying hatred, aimed directly at someone else.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Again, horrific delay. Please accept all my apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I'm sure everyone in the English speaking universe knows about my troubles and that internet use is rare and far between for me.

OR WAS!

Tee hee. Have old wireless laptop and guess what? Place downstairs has wireless internet with no password. STEAL!

So, this was the chapter that took ages. Along with all it's predecessors. I know there has been a massive gap in updates, but that ought to be changing soon. For anyone who doesn't know, my sister and I have found a beautiful place to live and are getting by OK. Thanks once again for the unending support and kindness, it helped during those terrible months more than you could know.

Anywho - what did we think of this chapter? I must admit I had fun with this. Bella's POV was far more interesting than I thought it would be and there is always endless material to twist everything somehow back around to Rosalie/Edward, even when it's just Bella and Edward alone in the room. NewMoon commences somewhere in the middle of this next chapter, or possibly the next one. Fun Fun Fun.

There are gigantic shoutouts to be made but unfortunately, I'm outta time. My sister starts college in ten minutes. I will post something huge on my livejournal when I get back, some large burst of love to everyone who has reviewed.

Thanks again, love you all.

Bex

x x x x

P.S - Bella really does say "Holy Crow!" at some point, I just forget where, so that's not my Briticisms - that's actually Meyer. And me, by default, taking the piss . Lol.

x x x x x


	32. Chapter 32: Hamartophilia

**-Chapter Thirty Two: Hamartophilia-**

'_You say your time has come,  
You're tired of waking up  
Don't be obscene, I can't conceive of living without you.  
You say you drag me down,  
No one should want you now  
When I start to cry, you kiss my eyes and say I'm not allowed to.  
Burning beacon in the night,  
Can't feel its heat, or see its light.  
__Single solitary guide,  
__It must get lonely there sometimes.' _

_-A Fine Frenzy_

*

I knew I had to calm down.

At this point, I knew with crystal clear certainty that if I didn't calm down I was going to lose my mind and any residual control I managed to scrape together over the years. As temperaments went, mine wasn't exactly serene at the best of times. Control over my innermost feelings might seem second nature to casual observers; I knew I seemed to possess a withdrawn restraint, but that was – like a whole lot else – a lie.

The world was unravelling at the seams; the fabric of everything I knew and loved was falling apart because I had pulled too hard, tested it's strength too many times. I'd done this; systematically, calculatedly and absolutely with full knowledge of the risks. Oh yes, I knew what I has done. Emmett had walked away, left me there on the floor where I'd collapsed exactly twelve minutes ago. It was my fault he'd left; of course it was my fault.

But this was only common knowledge when I was calm. And I wasn't calm.

The anger was starting to become a physical sensation, pulsating around my long dead system with a terrible vengeance and a thirst to exact the pain and agony that were tearing me apart. Quite literally tearing me apart, because I could feel each corner of myself being pulled in a different direction; aspects of who I was that, when cooperative and interactive, made a somewhat balanced being. They weren't cooperating now, they were ripping me to pieces. Each piece screaming and clawing for dominance while I sat, holding myself around the centre and sobbing silently because I couldn't take a breath long enough to scream and let it out.

Everything was too much, all too much…too fast…too lethal. It had cut me open, right down the centre, right to the bone. Even with the many years of life I'd had to develop mental clarity and equanimity, I was floored…devastated. In all the time of my existence, I'd always thought I was strong enough to cope with whatever hit me, on some level at least. But that was based on the presumption that I'd have Emmett with me, by my side; my lover, my darling, my everything. Strength, love, happiness…all were impossible ideals without him. Instead the white hot pain of panic and fear sliced through me until I finally took that breath enough to wrench a scream out of my chest, so hard it hurt. I might have been screaming words, even, but I could never have recalled them. It felt like my soul, or it's remnants, were trying to physically escape from this treacherous body and finally be free of the many wrongdoings it had experienced over so many years.

When I ran out of air and my throat threatened to give out I fell forward, my forehead touching the carpet just barely and I doubled over with the pain shocking through me in bitter, red torrents. I tasted dust and bitterness; I took great screaming breaths of air, crying harder than I'd done in far too long. Great, inexorable paroxysms of grief - grief built from decades of repression and lies, to myself more than anyone else - wracked over me in waves. I wanted to throw up; a sensation long gone by now, but my mind still remembered vaguely and so my body convulsed and contracted agonisingly until I sat upright, a distant sense of De Ja Vu relating to something from three days ago brushing over me; the taste of sugary tears and mascara was on my lips. Lips that not long ago had been touching those of my husband. I waited for the pain to dissipate…but it didn't. It didn't lessen, it didn't leave. It stayed overwhelmingly strong in the face of everything.

Only one thing seemed to make any sense now. The only way to make it stop…

Managing to stand, I scrambled for my purse, abandoned on the floor, it's contents just spilling out onto the carpet a little. The car keys glinted in the light from outside streetlamps. He'd left me the car, obviously. Probably because it was raining. He knew I hated getting my hair wet.

Another convulsion rocked through me, this time causing me to actually sob a little. It occurred to me, in a ridiculously distant manner, that we were creatures who really ought to have more control than this. No human could ever have felt so much, it didn't seem possible. And they weren't even strong enough to wreak sufficient havoc to satisfy such agonies. The fact that we were epically strong and lethal didn't seem fantastically logical when combined with the deathly intense emotions we were prone to experiencing.

I shook my hair from face and shoulder, clutched at my keys and nothing else. I left the purse, filled with enough money to compensate for the stupid hotel room and much more. There was nothing else of value inside and by the time I had thought this, I was already halfway out of the window. I jumped off the ledge, dropping neatly through the rain and wind. When I landed, some sixty feet below, I made my way to the car with an immovable, blind determination.

* * *

…_Three Days Ago…_

_The flame flickered as I watched it; a disobedient and defiant little sliver of light and heat that refused to give in to entropy. Though I had seen sights of ceaseless fascination and wonder, I remained fond of candles. I loved watching with intimate attention. The essence of light and heat, I would look as closely as possible. The centre of it was tinged with blue heat, the top of the flame corroding the air with smoke. Strange and beautiful and very messy if I wasn't careful. _

_I wondered if it was a facet of my personality that dictated I would like something so simple, yet so maudlin and aesthetic as candles. The premise of immortality seemed to suggest that I ought to be interested in higher things now; loftier purposes and objects. Yet here I was, lying on the floor of our room, watching the wick burn and the wax melt for as long as it could endure. It reminded me of humans. Maybe that was why I loved it. _

_Darkness was eternal. It would exist forever because existing cost it nothing. It gave off nothing; no heat, light, energy. Nothing. This candle would die, but it had given off light and heat before it's demise. Though it was in vain to warm the cold room, though it would make no difference because eventually the warmth would melt away into the icy darkness as if it never existed…the candle didn't really seem to care. It stayed alight, it continued to give off the meagre amounts of heat it was capable of producing before it slowly died before my eyes, defiant and insular to the last. _

_The similarities were amusing. _

_There was wax on the floor, but it was polished hard wood; nothing to worry about. I stayed on the floor for a few minutes after the light had vanished. I was bathed in night, though there had been small amounts of daylight outside when I'd set myself down on the floor, determined to think about nothing but what was in front of me. How long had I been here? _

_Three hours and six minutes, my body clock told me automatically. I was far beyond being impressed by my own ability to perfectly keep track of time. Some part of my mind was obviously counting the seconds, minutes and hours as they passed. _

_And as if sensing, which in retrospect he was obviously was, that I was ready to talk, the door opened and my brother set himself down beside me, legs crossed, back against the large bookcase adjacent to where I lay. _

"_Candles again, huh?" he asked, nodding his head and sighing. "Must be bad."_

"_Everything always makes sense when I lay like this," I half sighed, because I was very relaxed all of a sudden. "Even though it shouldn't. All the secrets of the world, contained in transient heat and illumination."_

"_So what's he done now?"_

_I smiled and shook my head, resting my chin on my hands that met in the middle, right beneath my face. "Nothing."_

_He shrugged. "What did you expect?"_

"_More than nothing."_

_There was considerable silence before he answered that. "Maybe….maybe that needs to stop now, Rose."_

"_You think I expect too much?"_

"_I think this will destroy you unless you can let go."_

_Only Jasper could say something like that so calmly, so genuinely with no hostility or pity. Statement of fact, little else. _

_I pulled myself upwards into a sitting position and looked at him. His head tilted slightly to the side, his eyes displaying nothing but whatever levels of sympathy I was willing to receive. _

"_Let go? I didn't realise that was an option."_

_I leant back against the bookcase, shoulder to shoulder with him. His presence was deeply soothing but in sickly, unrealistic was. It reminded of a dream I had once; a dream so beautiful and unreal that upon waking I cried to realise it was only my imagination. Sensing this, he retracted his gift a little, adjusting the levels until I felt some form of equilibrium. His influence now touched me like a hand upon mine; unobtrusive, non-evasive…simple reassurance. _

"_I wish you could, for your sake as well as Emmett's."_

_I winced, physically affected by the unexpected mention of Emmett in such a way. It was unlike Jasper to make me feel worse than I did and I wondered at his motivation for it. _

"_Imagine if we could," I said, swallowing down the guilt and placing it in that compartment of my mind and self…a box that would never, ever be opened. "Imagine."_

"_I know to some extent you believe it's not under your control, but…"_

"_No," I cut him off sharply. "You think this is something I'm perpetuating for the fun of it? Believe me, if there was a choice, I would never go near him again."_

_I looked, unnecessarily, at the soundproofed walls. If our family didn't hear my cries of rapture then they weren't going to detect hushed tones and conversations with Jasper, but still a feeling of unease settled something in my chest as we spoke of such things, so close to the people it concerned. _

"_But things are different now, Rosalie. You must see that."_

_I nodded, closing my eyes. "Bella."_

"_Of course Bella. Of course! What did you think, that he'd resume things with you after he got adjusted with her? He loves her so much, Rose and I know it's not what you want to hear, but maybe you need to."_

_I looked at him, a small frown creasing between my eyes. "You're saying he loves her more than I love Emmett?"_

_He blew out an exasperated, somewhat irritated sigh. "Despite what you feel on the subject, you're not as similar as you think you are. On some levels you're intrinsically different. _Because _he loves her so much, betraying her is unthinkable to him. Especially now, what with the massive guilt." He paused again, obviously trying to think of a better way to say what was coming next. "I love you Rosalie, you know that. Of everyone in our family, you're the one I feel closest to; honestly. But you're losing it."_

_I looked away from him, back to where the dead pool of lukewarm wax was staining the wooden panels of floor. There was no answer to that, none at all. Unable to deny it, unable to verify it for fear of making it real, I remained silent and still. _

_He took another deep breath and continued. "You're becoming more and more detached from everyone, Emmett especially. He's starting to notice it; he feels the distance between you growing. You need to get a grip."_

_I snorted with unsuppressed laughter, though it sent icy shivers all the way down my spine. "You're telling me that I need to get a grip? You?"_

"_Yes," he went on, undeterred. "I am."_

"_Ironic, as always."_

"_Please, Rose. Stop thinking about what you can't have and look around at what you--"_

"_--Don't lecture me about risking the one I love," I spat, too hurt and despondent to regret it. "You risk losing Alice every time you slake a thirst we all learned to control decades ago! Do not presume that I am in need of a lecture about control from _you_!"_

_He recoiled as if I'd slapped him and I didn't need to look into his eyes to see I'd wounded him unexpectedly. I kept my eyes trained on the cooling wax stain, willing him to accept that this was a lost cause. Jasper and I never fought, in all the years I'd know him it had never occurred. I felt sick to my cold, empty stomach and more desolate that I could cope with at present, but I squashed it down so he wouldn't sense that. _

"_Fine," he said expressionlessly, and in one graceful, swift movement he was at the door. He paused long enough to flick the light switch on abruptly shattering my illusions of darkness. "Don't come to me when it falls apart."_

_And I was alone once more, wretched and uncomfortable in my own skin. _

_

* * *

The drive didn't seem real. I supposed it was a long ingrained form of autopilot that allowed me to drive so expertly, if extremely fast, while my mind was a million miles away lost in a place light would never touch again. Half an hour of driving, thinking useless thoughts that dissolved into darkness, only to be reborn again, worse than before._

My hands moved over the wheel and for a few odd moments, I was distracted. A memory, glinting suddenly like morning light catching a diamond, flitted through my mind, past my eyes and was gone before I could hold onto it. I frowned and looked at my hand, twisting it and extending each finger, trying to regain whatever the transitory recollection might have been. I felt it, but could not fully see it and that was unsatisfying. I tried desperately to find the light again, to understand what the connection had been. I struggled in vain, grasping wildly but it was like clutching water. The memory, so ephemeral and ghostly was gone and I realised all too late that this had distracted me far too much.

The car was significantly off course and before I could slam down the brake, the tree was already coming towards me at shocking speed.

CRASH!

The impact of the car smashing into the tree was unexpected and I felt vaguely grateful for the distraction as I went through the windscreen.

* * *

_-Yesterday-_

"_Expiry date, 02/07. Yes, monthly payment please. Yes that's great, thanks. Bye."_

_I hung up the phone, ticking car insurance off my stupid To Do list for the month. So far I was halfway through dealing with the mundane, but totally necessary activities. Immortal we might have been, but we still needed to pay bills and drive cars with insurance policies. Not that we would ever crash; our reflexes were second to none, but still…to live in the human world meant following all their ridiculous little habits and laws. I scanned the remaining items; a few credit cards needed replenishing, but nothing major. I felt inexplicably lonely and isolated. Jasper hadn't spoken to me since the incident involving my outburst and though he wasn't expressing external resentment, his silence and total lack of contact made me feel very much more alone than I did before. He and Alice had ventured out a lot more than usual the last couple of days, leaving only Emmett, Carlisle, Esme and myself in the house. It almost felt like old times. _

_Almost. _

_Edward was with Bella. Well, that didn't really need stating, even to myself. Of course he was with Bella. The phraseology felt monumental, even to myself. Their names were preposterously well matched on a level I didn't even comprehend. Bella and Edward…it had a ring to it, though it hurt to acknowledge. I snarled to myself, cursing the day Charlie Swan thought it would be a good idea to have sex with his wife. Sometimes it hit me in unexpected waves, just how much I hated her, even though I didn't hate _her_. I hated her in a vague, formless manner…not actually her (though she wasn't doing herself any favours in my estimation). No, I hated what she took from me, the space she filled, the things she could - and would - give him that I never could. The way she made him smile, the ways his eyes - once so dark and dusky - would light up at the thought of her, even when they were apart. A rarity in itself. I hated the was he was losing part of himself, something that was once only mine was eroding to make space for something new. For her. I hated every mannerism about him that was different now; that she had brought about in him. Little corruptions of something I had built, co-constructed. My musings were helplessly selfish whenever such emotions engulfed me. Awareness of such a fact wasn't sufficient to dismiss it. _

_But it was more than that. Her obvious and painfully evident reliance upon him made my stomach turn on a very basic level. There was something innately sickly about it. His love for her was wrapped up in his chivalrous tendencies and she was the perfect representation for a damsel in distress. He would be with her, even when he should have been with us. It was unhealthy and though I was aware of the sheer hypocrisy of such a statement, it didn't make a dent in it's veracity. She had no backbone, she would never fight him or challenge him. It hurt me that someone so the opposite of myself could make him so deliriously happy that he would abandon his own family for her company. Most of which involved her being unconscious. _

_Saturday morning and it was already a bad day. My own fault, of course. I was systematically poisoning everything around me and I couldn't stop it, let alone understand why. _

"_Morning, Rose."_

_Carlisle's soft tones made the corners of my mouth turn up slightly in a helpless smile. Despite the deathly gloom I knew I was sinking slowly into, his voice was and would always be a lifeline to somewhere better, safer…brighter. _

"_Morning," I greeted customarily and turned to see him leaning in the doorway, watching me with concerned affection as I sat cross legged on the kitchen table, surrounded by paperwork and credit cards. _

"_Keeping up appearances?" he enquired, coming to sit opposite me in the disused, pristine kitchen. He pulled out a chair and sat down; I wondered who he had been talking to and why he was here, though it could simply have been a wish to spend time with his first daughter. My cynical self highly doubted this. _

"_Don't want Chief Swan pulling me over without insurance," I said with a shrug. "Imagine that."_

_He smiled and looked down for a moment, perhaps swallowing a laugh. "I'm sure Bella would pull some strings for you," he replied, his gently mockery a welcome change from the pity I expected. _

_I cracked another unwilling smile. "I'm sure she would."_

_He sighed, reached across the table and taking my hand in his. "Rose," he said and I knew what was coming. The coldness returned once more and I willed myself not to allow the internal agony access to my mouth. Not with Carlisle. I could never do that and live through the consequences of hurting someone I so deeply loved. _

"_Yes?"_

"_What's happening?"_

_I could have stalled; easily made up excuses, asked him to clarify a million different ways. '_What do you mean, Carlisle?' Happening with what? Is something wrong?' _But I didn't. What was the point? Even with his telepathy, Edward would never know me as well as Carlisle. _

"_It's just hard. Having our family break apart."_

_He laid the other hand on top of mine, eyes locking. "Edward is happy. He's never had such a thing until now. You begrudge him this?"_

_It was more forthright than I expected. "What if I did?"_

"_There would be no reason for it, none at all. Why should you be anything other than happy for him. Bella's proven herself trustworthy; where does such hostility stem from?" He was being unbearably reasonable, as if we were calmly discussing theology, agreeing to disagree. _

"_She's proven nothing! What happens when they have a fight? Who will she turn to then? How can we tell where her loyalties lie when their relationship is tested? And I don't mean by external, life or death threats. I mean life - I mean real life and real love. What then?"_

_I'd let myself go off on a tangent before I realised that it was Carlisle, and he would see straight through it. He smiled wryly. _

"_Rose, please," he said softly. "I know we haven't spoken properly in a while, but I still know you rather well. You're having trouble letting go of him."_

_That took me aback. "I never _had_ him!" I said, a little too defensively to be fully credible. And again, I'd forgotten too much. _

"_I seem to recall a time when that wasn't true."_

"_Oh please," I dismissed. "Do not remind me of such desperation."_

"_He loves you too, you know," he said quietly. It brought me up short, as I had been prepared to launched in to a massive diatribe about the stupidity of my younger years. _

"_What?"_

"_He told me himself, last week."_

'Don't ask! Don't ask! Don't ask!'_ my mind insisted furiously, but it was no good. "Wh-what did he say?"_

_His stared at me for what seemed to be the longest second of my existence before smiling softly and speaking just as gently. "He told me that he loved you and he hated seeing what his happiness was doing to you. I know you two don't have the best track record or the best relationship, but that doesn't mean you don't love one another. I don't think he would ever have been able to see you with anyone besides Emmett, you know. It's only because he loves Emmett so much, trusts him so implicitly, that he was able to let you go."_

_My clever answers and comfortable lies fled, leaving me speechless and faltering in their wake. My mind was clogged with too much new information; trying to sift through what was real, what was intended with sibling overtones and what was genuine insight on Carlisle's behalf. _

"_If you could only see the good in Bella, I'm sure it would be the same for you."_

_He leaned across the table and placed a kiss on my cheek, leaving me alone once more, giving me the space everyone seemed to think I needed, unaware that I was drowning in it. _

* * *

I could feel things beneath me, around me, all over me. It was somewhat gratifying to be so suddenly thrown into a world of sensation once more instead of enduring numbness; so many kinds of numbness. That strangulating anaesthesia seemed to have gone completely; I could feel so much.

Mostly, there was glass. Though I wasn't really moving, I could feel it all around me. I tasted the fresh scent of broken wood; a cracked, destroyed tree. The sap, it's own lifeblood, was bitter and abundant on the air, mingling with other scents that my mind was too slow to process. Things were moving very slowly in my head; thoughts passing by like swans on water. Experimentally, I tried to move and failed. My body was all of a sudden disinclined to engage in any basic motor functions. Perhaps it enjoyed the simplicity of lying on the ground , surrounded by car wreckage and splintered, bleeding wood.

There was no sound whatsoever, but the silence was loud at all. It wasn't obvious silence, demanding to be filled. It was more like the part of me that heard, was sleeping. I didn't feel the need to hear anything. Nothing seemed necessary. Every single thing in my universe was based in simplicity.

I knew I should open my eyes, also covered in glass. I felt raindrops hitting me gently, soothingly almost. I felt that I was wet all over, my hair and my skin soaked. I knew I should get up, become a part of the world once more, but it was strangely enticing, lying here. Just hiding from everything, my own consciousness included.

Perhaps I would have stayed there all night, bathed in the childish ideology that closing my eyes meant I was invisible to rest of the world. Perhaps I would have remained there until someone drove past me and came to investigate.

But it didn't matter what might have been, because there were suddenly hands on my face. Frantic fingers wiping the shattered glass crystals off of my eyes and mouth as if that genuinely mattered. Something shook my shoulders and I realised for the first time exactly where I was with reference to the angle from which the car had thrown me.

I had gone through the tree; completely through it, which had effectively cut the tree more or less in half and caused it to fall on top of me. No wonder my body hadn't really wanted to move. I was pinned to the ground.

I felt the tree shifting, moving and the weight of it - which had only just become apparent - lessening massively. Then it vanished altogether and I felt the ground shake just a little. The tree had either jumped off of me, or someone had removed it.

The hands returned, pulling me up to a sitting position. The silence was more enforced now, trying to protect me from someone obviously shouting my name. When I didn't reply or even react, the hands shook me, hard.

I knew in that instant who it was. The moment I acknowledged this, my senses slowly began to return, obviously having given up trying to protect me from this knowledge.

Very slowly, I opened my eyes. There were tiny splinters of cold glass in them, but they didn't hurt at all. The cool rain washed them away soon enough, washed my eyes clean. At first everything was incredibly dark. I wondered if I'd even opened my eyes at all. But then shapes began to form and colours began to appear in the darkness; blobs of light, coming together like liquid to form solid outlines.

He looked terrified. I blinked slowly, wondering why. Despite my other senses rushing back to me, my mind remained stubbornly unhurried; sluggish in the wake of too much, maybe. Just too much.

Before even having the chance to control it, I said his name. He gasped in unnecessary relief, looking upwards at the dark sky and holding me even harder. Surely he didn't think I was actually hurt?

Still, my mind, body and skull had taken some serious battering. There had to be limits to what we could endure as immortals, didn't there?

Focus formed and I curled my fingers just to see if I could. As they moved, other parts of my body started to scream at me in protest and answer to my previous question.

When he looked back down there was something else there, something unnamed and too complicated for my currently childish, simple mind. It might have been anger; the kind a mother has when a child returns from being out so late. Relief twined with rage. Because mothers loved their children.

"…trying to do?" he croaked, and I could just make out the sounds of his throat clenching and unclenching. "Huh? What exactly were you trying to do?"

I smiled and it hurt. He thought I was trying to kill myself, how amusing. Thoughtlessly, because it seemed utterly right, I put my hand on his cheek and ran my thumb around the soft swell of skin to the right of his nose.

He was talking rapidly in lieu of my answers, obviously aware that I couldn't really formulate the ability to generate full sentences. "I mean I know you're selfish, Rose…but _Jesus Christ_! Why would you do this, Rose? Why?"

Something prickled in my mind. Why had I done this? What had I been doing?

The simplicity narrowed slightly and I felt colder. Thoughts were hammering at the door to my brain, demanding to be let back in. But it was so lovely and spacious without them. Everything was so clear, so undemanding.

"Where's Emmett?" Edward asked me, looking around frantically.

I gasped. The door broke down and the flood hit me hard. Any and all simplicity was crushed in the onslaught of so much unwanted knowledge. I watched his eyes, eyes I knew too damned well, as my realisations became his and we could do little but stare at one another as the truth of what had happened hit us both harder than I had hit the tree.

The thing we had always feared most…it had happened.

* * *

_-Last Night-_

_The problem with immortality, if there was one identifiable singular, was as I had always speculated; time. Time was the worst thing about the entire phenomenon; worse than the bloodlust, worse the even the horrifically intense emotions. It was that time passed so slowly, with such little haste. Because we would never die, there was no impetus to seize the day. No urgent necessity to live each day with some measure of gain. No rush, no hurry. Each moment was leisurely and curious, even the moments of pain. _

_It was becoming obscenely repetitive, even to my own mind. Agony and ache caught in an eternal loop, maintained by something I couldn't rid myself of because it was no more possible than splitting myself in half. _

_There was too much time and no urgency. I could see the world tomorrow, or next year or whenever I chose because I would never die, never grow old and weary. I would never suffer illness, never face death. Boredom might have been the word, were it not for my suffering. _

_Tomorrow we had the stupid party to attend. Though I dreaded it, I also longed for it to arrive. A change of pace in the monotony of my own wretched self pity. _

_Jasper was right. I was losing it. _

_I knew I should pull myself together. Move on, immerse myself in what I had, but such depths of despair were circular, it seemed. They knew no end. Regardless of what I did, what music I played, what I made with my own hands, what I bought and paid for and later threw away…nothing made any difference. My family were staying away increasingly, even Emmett. Just as Jasper had predicted. _

_Alice had spoken to me this morning, sharply and devoid of her usual warmth. _

"Seriously," she'd said to me, just as I was leaving to go shopping. "Stop."

I'd turned around, mid-step and narrowed my eyes at my sister. "Excuse me?"

"Stop it, Rosalie. While you can."

She'd swept past me then, going to join Jasper at their car. I saw him watching me with unreadable eyes and an expressionless face. For a moment I thought he'd betrayed me, but no…he would never do that.

_I needed to get out, go into the night and leave this house, everyone I was upsetting with my sour moods. I felt as though I was poisoning the air all around us, slowly hurting everyone I so loved. I needed to walk, to run…tear through the night and not stop until something physically stopped me. _

_The object on my lap felt heavier than it really was, symbolic no doubt of it's meaning to me. A photo album, full to the brim of pictures, paper and other pieces of scrap that held such importance to me and deeply rooted sensibilities. _

_The pages were thick and barely an inch of bare leaf was visible in between the gaps of so many photographs. Who would have thought immortals treasured images so much, especially since we never changed. Fifty years of photos and we all looked exactly the same. It was odd, not to mention dangerous - imagine someone stumbling across it - but it was mine and not something I'd ever shown anyone, even Emmett. _

_That was going to change. I was going to share this with him, when he came back from hunting with Esme and Edward. Jasper had said we were becoming distant, and this would show him, wouldn't it? _

_So I was waiting, which would have been fine if I was an easily distracted human. Only I wasn't, and each moment passed like a dull thunderclap; each one easily distinguishable from the last. Time was a slow murderer, only I was immune. It was like suffering torture with no hope of release. _

"_God," I laughed dryly. "Can you even hear yourself?"_

_Could I? How far gone was I at this point in my pointless loneliness, my stupid expectations strangling any chance of happiness from within me? _

_Finally, after what seemed hours, I heard voices and laughter. My wonderful family, laughing and enjoying themselves because they were nowhere near me. Distance kept them safe from my seemingly contagious misery. I listened to their conversations which I could hear as they approached the house. Emmett was insisting he'd caught the scent of something much bigger and more dangerous than any bear. Edward and Esme were teasing him about it, insisting he was daydreaming about something more challenging coming into the picture. _

"_I'm telling you!" he said loudly, defending his claim. "I know it was out there!"_

"_Please," Edward dismissed teasingly. "There can't be anything scarier out there than you."_

_Through the brick and glass I could faintly detect a change in Emmett's voice when he said "Out there? Nothing out there scares me, man."_

"_Come on honey," Esme said comfortingly. "You know she gets like this."_

"_Entirely without necessity," Edward added with evident distaste. "She's always been prone to attention seeking depression."_

"_Hey!" Emmett said, not a little sharply. "It's not like that."_

"_Well, what is it then?"_

"_Look, I know you and Bella are doing great and I'm happy for you, you know I am. But it's not all smiles and sunsets in relationships, you know? Sometimes you have to work to keep each other smiling. Sometimes you have to work through hard times."_

"_I didn't mean anything by it," Edward assured him quickly, a faintly detectable guilt laced his words which I suspected only I could detect. "I was just…I'm sorry."_

"_I know," Emmett sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to take your head off. I'm just worried. When she's upset, I feel a million times worse. I just keep waiting for it to break and then we'll be OK again. Maybe…maybe we should go away for a while. Get a change of scenery."_

"_No!" Esme cried at once. "I hate it when you leave. Please stay, there's no need to leave! Rose will be fine, you'll see. We're all adjusting, it's just a little more difficult for her. Don't leave, I can't bear not seeing you for months at a time!"_

"_Aww c'mon, Mom. You know I was kidding. Leave here and have no-one to back me up when she turns on me? Not likely!"_

_Esme and Emmett laughed and their voices were no longer audible from the outside, but from the interior of the house. Esme called Carlisle's name and chastised Emmett gently for even thinking about leaving again. Edward announced he would be back at some point in the night to change clothes. Everyone told him to give Bella their best. _

_I looked down, my throat clenching and my teeth trapping my bottom lip in a vice grip. These pictures were ones I had taken without anyone knowing until they were taken. Emmett smiling at Edward, Edward and Emmett roughhousing. The colour was sufficiently distinguishable that I didn't need to guess at the timeline to know it was before Jasper and Alice had joined us. Carlisle somewhere in the background, rolling his eyes. _

_Somewhere down the bottom of the page, a single picture of Edward stared up at me. I remembered that moment perfectly. I'd been about to take another picture of them both, when Emmett had caught sight of me and ducked. Edward looked up at me to see why Emmett had unexpectedly dropped to the floor and a small flicker of surprise and just the barest hint of a half formed smile was immortalised forever in the muted tones and reflective paper. I stared at the picture, unable to look away. Edward…before Bella. Before all this new madness. Edward at a time when the only person in his life was me, when he couldn't keep away from me. When we would tell lies to our family so terrible that the guilt was sufficient to keep us apart for months at a time. When he would he would look up at me from across a crowded room and catch my eye, just for one moment. He'd read my mind and look away again, afraid of smiling or of revealing something that could destroy us both. _

_Edward, when he loved me beyond what either one of us knew how to describe. _

_Edward, when I was the focal point of his entire universe. _

_Edward, when he was _mine_. _

_I slammed the book shut and closed my eyes tightly, trying to erase the memories, trying to block it all out. _

_But what was the point? It was futile; trying to forget him was like trying to forget my own name. It was branded into me too deeply to ever be removed. _

_I put the album back where it was, where no-one would ever find it. Tonight wasn't the night for this, I knew. I had time to show Emmett how much I loved him, that we weren't becoming distant. I had all the time in the world. There was no rush, after all. No impetus to act now. _

_He would always be there, my Emmett. _

_Always. _

_

* * *

The grey monotonous anguish of the last months was torn away in one deathly motion. The tedium, the aching, dull melancholia I had been drowning in was gone in a flash of white hot searing pain. It was like waking from a nightmare world; delivery from purgatory, a place where even genuine outright pain as better than the suffering I had undergone in the last weeks, months even, of my life. The days alone, the aching moments, minutes and hours of torturous time and my own mind eating away at whatever remained of my soul…it had ended. The shock of everything hit me right in the centre of my being and was enough to smash away all the sickly, suffocating toxins that had been polluting my mind, slowly with masochistic intent. The fear was shocking and I felt like a child…my mind reduced to the most basic of emotions. Loss, terror, guilt._

Edward raised a hand to his mouth, his eyes wide fear and disbelief. The horror that Emmett knew about us, even though he didn't know the full truth, was thrumming through us both, owing to his telepathic gift.

Rendered speechless by this, we could do little more than stare at one another, caught in the powerful glare of a white hot terror. Remembering it suddenly from nothing was almost as bad as it happening all over again. Coming from darkness and silence, a kind of peace really, to discover that my life - our life - was in danger of falling spectacularly to pieces…it was more than either of us was capable of handling in such a condition.

When Edward moved, it was to pull me up so I was sitting. When I spoke, it was to say his name once more.

"Edward," I managed, and it came out extremely dry. "He left me."

He nodded and swallowed a large lump in his throat. "I know," he whispered. "I saw it." His hand caught tightly with my own, our fingers trapped together and a part of me was screaming that I was supposed to be angry with him; supposed to tear him limb from limb because it was all his fault. All of this was his fault, wasn't it? He was the one who promised me Emmett would never know, he had promised me we'd never be caught. He'd brought Bella into our lives and changed everything, causing me to act this way…hadn't he?

In reality, we shouldn't have been this close together. This wasn't my intention, I'd wanted to hurt him. We should have been fighting by now, ripping into one another because that's what we did when something was wrong. Only maybe this time, we'd gone too far. Maybe there was no way to make this better and we both knew it.

His arms were around me, holding me up as he stared at me. I was reminded of the photo in the secret album. That picture I'd stared at it so many times, so many different ways. The way he looked now would be branded into my mind in a similar way.

He looked so wretched, so devastated. It had been so long since I'd seen genuine fear like that in his eyes. Despite the absolute detestation I was fully capable of experiencing towards him, I hated seeing him like that. It reminded me of when we were so much younger and he would sink into fits of depression, similar to those I was still prone to. I'd watch him descend into a dark, forbidding part of himself, losing all connection to those around him until finally I'd manage to snap him out of it. I could clearly see the shadows beneath his eyes now. The lashes that sat upon them were wet with tear drops of the rain, his hair wet and dripping. I could see the way his wet lips tightened and his jaw worked to contain the emotions - the same ones - that tore through me, ripping away weeks of dusty, fatally sickening moratoria and needless self destruction.

I knew I shouldn't be focusing on him like this, not when things were so close to falling apart. Emmett had left me for an unspecified amount of time. I was having trouble recalling just how much he knew, but I knew he'd left me and he wouldn't have done that if it wasn't serious.

"How…? How did you find me?"

Edward looked away from me, to some dark place I couldn't see because I simply wasn't able to tear my eyes away from him. "I was going home and I…I don't know exactly. I felt something was wrong so I called Alice to see if everything was alright." His eyes closed tightly shut and he shook his head. "She said she didn't see anything. That there was no problem."

I tried to sit up a little more, but he was holding me pretty tightly and it was difficult to will my legs into cooperating with my spine. "She saw nothing? How is that possible? He's….he left. That has to change things, right?"

"I don't know," he admitted quietly, the way he did when there was something in his voice he didn't want me to hear. I was very aware of his hand wrapped around my arm, the other hand still tightly embraced with my own, fingers clutching at mine. "But I knew something was wrong. I was on my way to the house when I caught your scent. I heard the car, you were driving so fast and alone too. Then I heard the crash and I ran as fast as I could." He brought his gaze back to mine. "Why did you crash the car, Rosalie?"

I blinked, trying to remember specifically. "It was an accident," I told him, quite truthfully, because it was. I hadn't wanted to crash the car…I'd been on my way to wherever he was, with every intention of destroying him as much as possible.

"Of course you were," he said darkly. "Why wouldn't you?"

"And I just got distracted," I went on. "It's never happened before, I can't understand it."

"I can," he replied, absentmindedly plucking leaves from my drenched hair. "I'm amazed you were able to drive at all."

The ability to move had returned for some strange reason. I supported my own weight with my arms, though this meant that a torrent of jarring agony - physical, for a change - came rushing and throbbing through my body. I winced, unaccustomed to such a sensation. He sensed it and helped me once more. Reality was starting to take shape again. This was certainly not the scenario that ought to have been playing out.

"Edward," I said, moving his hands from mine. "Stop."

"Why?"

"Because," I said, struggling to stand up and instantly failing, landing in a ridiculous heap back on the wet, thick dirt. "You're only reacting to me like this because I'm hurt. It's part of your whole chivalry complex. You can't resist someone who needs your help, your protection."

It came out a lot harsher than I'd intended it to. In my head it sounded rational, logical even, but once it was past my lips it sounded cruel and unnecessary. I tried to work up the energy to regret it, but it wasn't forthcoming.

He recoiled ever so slightly, as if I'd hit him for no reason at all. "So all those years were…what? Because you were so helpless and fragile?" he asked, sounding more like himself.

"All those years were a long time ago, funnily enough," I reminded him, looking behind me for my car, still unable to comprehend why I couldn't say anything to him but sharp, cruel words, indicative of a pain I didn't really want to share anymore.

"So I'm only with you now because of that? That's what you're telling me?"

I turned and stared at him point blank, rain running in rivulets down my face and my neck. "Of _course_."

He laughed bitterly and pulled me to a standing position, a little roughly. "Fine," he said with a very familiar smile. I owned a smile like that; cold, detached and utterly unreal. A façade for internal pain too fresh to reveal. The pain of a hopeful child reaching for a parent's hand, only to have it slapped away. "Well now that you're no longer an endangered little flower, I'll just leave you to it, shall I?"

It was coming back now, everything that was wrong with me began to filter back. The shock of crashing my car, of cutting a tree in half and having it land on me began to wear off. Something so familiar trickled back into what had previously been a simple, uncomplicated mindset. The childishness was wearing away now; the adult I'd become over the many years was returning, furious at the mess my juvenile self had made.

I ran a hand through my soaking wet hair, ruined by the rain irreversibly. Unfortunately, immortality had no stipulations preventing the fact that if my hair got caught in the rain, it wouldn't expand to five times it's normal size if left unattended or without a hairdryer. Left to dry naturally, I would soon resemble the equivalent of a pale, blonde Tina Turner.

He laughed at me, amazed that my thoughts could remain so obscenely trivial at such a time. "Feeling better are we?"

"You'd prefer me to engage with you in this? You want us to start doing what we always do when one of us is hurt? Rip each other apart, because no-one knows how to do it like we do. No-one knows how to hurt us like we do, right? _That's _what you want?"

"Isn't that why you were looking for me?"

"A question with a question, as always. Nothing changes," I answered flatly, which was amusing, considering the situation we were in. Where had this steely calm sprung from? Even so, I could feel the burning anger and desperation screaming beneath it. Given the chance, it would erupt from within me, frantically searching for the closest method of relief.

By this point, I had managed to pull myself to a standing position, using a smaller, nearby tree as leverage. I held onto it tightly, trying not to show how much it cost to stand. "I was looking for you to hurt you, of course I was. But it's different now. I don't want that now."

There had to be some sort of law against _feeling_, rather than seeing, the confusion cross his features.

"You think you can handle this on your own?"

I gritted my teeth, looking around for my car. The lights were completely smashed and we were standing in the centre of a deeply pitch black night, coated with excessive rain, yet I knew it was only a few feet away. "Like you're going to help me."

Again, I sensed more than knew, that he was hurt. Maybe Jasper was contagious.

"We're in this together," he insisted, rather wildly.

Amazed and furious, I turned around to face him, able to see him almost perfectly in the thick blackness, courtesy of immortal abilities, many years spent in the gloom and an uncanny knowledge of his entire anatomy. "I'm surprised you're not running for the hills, screaming with relief. I'm doing you a favour! How is your little Bella going to take it when she finds out her ridiculously perfect, pedestal boyfriend was with the even more beautiful, breathtaking Rosalie? You think her already non-existent amounts of confidence and self-confidence could take that? Please! It would kill her and destroy your relationship! She'd never be able to see us in the same room together and you _know it!_"

"Christ, I know you think I'm a bastard, Rosalie but do you seriously think I'm just going to leave you alone to deal with this? You're losing it!"

My jaw dropped as he shouted those words at me; words everyone I loved had been saying to me for the last few weeks. _Losing it. _Losing it?

"How dare you? How _dare_ you throw that at me? You think this is easy for me? You think watching my life fall apart, while yours goes from strength to strength, is something I relish? You smug, insufferable bastard! Letting me hit you isn't going to make this all better again! Letting me take everything out on you, while you wear your little martyr badge, is _not_ going to solve anything! YOU CAN'T MAKE THIS GO AWAY AND NEITHER CAN I!"

By the time I realised I was screaming, it was too late to stop. The steely calm was cracking, revealing the turmoil and chaos beneath it. I knew I should stop; that this was beyond stupid because all I had to do was find Emmett and talk to him, but I couldn't tear myself away.

"So what are you going to do about it then?" he demanded, managing not to shout as loud as I was. I wondered, distantly, where exactly we were and how close to Forks I'd gotten before stupidly crashing my beloved car.

"Five miles from Bella," he answered instantly, an edge to his tone.

"Ah," I said with a sarcastic smile. "Of course you're not shouting. Can't have Little Miss Swan waking up in the middle of the night and overhearing now can we?"

"I said," he repeated, now with a definite note of anger. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Find Emmett, talk to him of course."

He snickered to himself and my rage boiled to a new level.

"What? You thought I'd fall to my knees, begging you to run away with me?" More cruelties were bubbling up inside me, brimming to my lips where they were about to fall irrevocably. "You'd like that, huh? The chance to let me down easy. Tell me you're sorry, but you just can't leave your newfound love, your happiness. Don't flatter yourself! You're nothing to him…_nothing_! You're weak…pathetic. Look at you, look at what you've let yourself become, all because you think you've found happiness, birds and sunshine! Edward and Bella, the greatest of all time love! Flowers and candy and a strict premarital sex ban! Oh yes, I can see how _that_ will go! _'Oh Edward, you're so beautiful and sexy and mysterious! Make love to me, I care nothing for the damage you'll do to my puny, tissue thin little body!' - ' But Bella, we can't! As much of a turn on as it is to feel guilty about you _all the damned time_ I just can't…let's torture ourselves with years of unresolved sexual tension, shall we?' _You're pathetic! You've let yourself become a pathetic echo of the man you once were and it sickens me to see you standing there, as if you're some big hero! As if you're the pinnacle of all things good! Go and tell Bella some of things you've done with your so called sister and see if she still worships at the alter of Edward Cullen! See if she still thinks you're such a beacon of perfect, gleaming white light! She doesn't know you at all, does she? If she knew how dark you are, how much you love that darkness, how far we've gone together to it's edge and just pulled one another back in time…you think she'd still cuddle up to you at night?"

His retaliation was quicker than I'd expected. "And look at you, you think you're _so_ perfect! You are _nothing _compared to her! When I'm lying next to her, you don't even _exist to me!_ You're nothing but a lying, treacherous, spiteful little whore who never got over the fact that her betrothed would rather rape her to death than marry her!"

I don't know what it was that I threw at him, but I knew it hit him hard because the force of it impacting with him echoes through the woodland area, rebounding off the trees and back to me.

"And you!" I screamed, so out of breath that it was amazing I could speak, let alone scream. "Are a sad, lonely little boy who has to mesmerize a human to feel some measure of happiness because you never got over the fact that I _didn't choose YOU!"_

I expected physical retaliation now, because we were crossing those lines again. In fact, any lines we might have drawn to retain any form of decency were blurred beyond all recognition by this point. But nothing was hurled at me, he didn't make any move to come closer. I could hear him breathing; short, sharp breaths as if he had been stabbed right in the lungs.

"Exactly," he replied in a voice trembling uncontrollably. "You _didn't_ choose me. You chose him over me and now look where it's got us! We chose a life of make believe, a façade which is starting to crack and yes…it's your fault for not choosing me when we still had the chance!"

"You can't be serious!" I gasped indignantly, my own breath catching as my mind processed exactly what he was saying.

"I am," he whispered, barely audible amidst the heavy drizzle.

"Can you even hear yourself?"

"Why not look around and see the choices we made, Rosalie, and see how they're destroying us? If you hadn't involved Emmett, none of this would be happening!"

"I _love _Emmett!"

"WHICH IS WHAT COMPARED TO US?" he practically roared and it seemed he was far less concerned with waking his darling Bella now. "WHAT IS LOVE IN THE FACE OF WHAT WE HAVE? LOOK AT WHAT WE'VE HAD TO DO…THE **LIES **WE'VE HAD TO TELL! WOULD WE HAVE TO LIE IF YOU'D NEVER INVOLVED HIM?"

"AND WHO'S IDEA WAS IT TO INVOLVE HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE?" I screamed, wishing I could do more than scream, wishing I could hurt him, kill him, destroy him with my own fingers.

"YOU COULD HAVE REFUSED, COULDN'T YOU ROSALIE? YOU COULD HAVE SWALLOWED YOUR SHAME AND ADMITTED TO CARLISLE AND ESME THAT WE WERE SO IN LOVE NEITHER OF US COULD TELL WHERE ONE ENDED AND THE OTHER BEGAN!"

"IT WOULD NEVER HAVE WORKED!"

"YOU NEVER GAVE IT A CHANCE TO!" he yelled, the raw emotion in his voice causing it to crack a little. "THE FIRST OPPORTUNITY TO LEAVE, YOU WERE GONE! THE FIRST CHANCE TO DESTROY IT BEFORE IT COULD BECOME SOMETHING ACCEPTABLE AND GOOD, YOU HAD TO TURN IT INTO SOMETHING DARK AND WRONG SO YOU COULD IDENTIFY IT! AND NOW LOOKED WHERE WE ARE, ROSE! LOOK AT WHAT WE'VE BECOME!"

"AND WHAT IS THAT?"

"Echoes," he gasped, brokenly because his throat seemed to give out. "Echoes and shadows of what we could have been. Forced to live like this because we can never…_never_," his voice cracked again, as if he was crying. "Admit to what we are. Never admit to what we feel. Never admit the truth, because it's always so much easier to lie."

"How can you even say that? You wouldn't trade what you have with Bella for anything!" I hissed, wiping the raindrops from my eyes; strange imitations of tears. "You'd sell me to the Volturi if it meant saving her and you know it!"

He moved faster than I'd seen him in a long time. Though everyone had told me about the big showdown between him and James, I was unable to visualise it properly until now. He was in front of me before I could move back; he grabbed me by the shoulders, hard.

"You stupid, twisted little…" he breathed, trembling fury present in every syllable. His fingers gripping me painfully hard and when I tried to wrench away he just held me in place. I knew I could remove him from me if I was serious, but I couldn't. I was caught, trapped and it…_it_….was building again. "You don't know anything if that's what you think!"

"You _know_ what I think!" I spat viciously. "How can you doubt it, when you can _see it, hear it…know every single thought that passes through my head?_"

His hands moved to my face, gripping harder and I felt his erratic breaths brushing over my features. "How can I read you? You're incomprehensible! Nothing you do makes sense, you've destroyed us both!"

"We're still here, aren't we?" I snarled, painfully aware by now that the situation was balancing on yet another lethal knife's edge, ready to fall either pending our insane, reckless actions.

"Are we?" he hissed through gritted teeth, the tremors of his body passing through his arms into my own body. "How can we be sure, Rosalie?"

"Because of _them!"_ I growled, and finally shoved him away before I did something we would both regret furiously. "Because of Emmett and Bella! That's how we know we're still here, still a part of the world…that we haven't dissolved into one another as we would have, given the chance! That's why we're still here, Goddamnit! Because I made the choices you never could!"

"Choices that are destroying the people we love!"

"Choices that are necessary!"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE A COWARD!"

I slapped him right across the face, hard enough to make him gasp. With the accoutrement of the rain, it made a cracking sound akin to a gunshot. "Coward?" I echoed, uneven with anger. "You're the one burying your head in the sand! You're the one so afraid of being alone that you've made some poor little human fall in love with you!"

He hit me back, I expected him to. So I spun my body around and swung my elbow right in the centre of his face. He fell down and I was on top of him before he could even take a breath. His hands were pinned either side of his face, I held him down using all my strength.

"This is all we would do!" I snarled, shaking so hard I thought I might physically shatter apart. "This is all we would do without them!"

"No," he rumbled. "This is what we do because we deny ourselves! We do this to one another because we've made it impossible to be anything but each other's dirty little secret when it should never have been that way! FROM THE FIRST TIME WE TOUCHED, WE SHOULD NEVER HAVE LET GO AGAIN! WE SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN APART FROM THAT DAY!"

"What kind of life is that?" I demanded, noting somewhere that he made no move to escape my hold. His wrists were warm and wet, all too familiar to my own hands. "IT'S NOT HEALTHY, NOT NATURAL!"

"_WE'RE_ NOT NATURAL!" he screamed. "WE COULD HAVE HANDLED IT, YOU WERE JUST TOO SCARED…TOO MUCH OF A _**COWARD**_ TO FACE UP TO THE FACT THAT WE WERE MORE THAN STUPID, CURIOUS TEENAGERS IN LOVE…THAT WE WERE EVERYTHING THAT MATTERED…WE WERE _**EVERYTHING**_!!"

I let go of his wrists and removed myself from his body, falling off him into the mud and rain. For a long while neither of us spoke. The sounds of the raindrops surrounded me, but were not enough to drown out his words. My head fell into my hands, unable to contain the weight of everything it had inside of it.

"Why do we do this?" I croaked, feeling warm, sweet tears pool on my lips.

He put his hand under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"So we won't do this," he said, and kissed me.

* * *

_- Seventy Two Years Ago - _

_We both moved into the kiss, sensing the crumbling wall that had maintained the line between us. It crashed down and with it went all my sense, my denial and my strength. I kissed him fiercely, he pulled me closer as I moulded myself to his body. I knew he had never anyone before, something in it I could sense, but it didn't alter the impact of it. It was beyond anything I'd experienced, every. There was an unbearable intensity, a passion that threatened to swallow us both whole. Some voice inside of him seemed to quieten and his dispute with his inner self vanished from sight. I made a small noise in the back of my throat and pulled him closer to me. He made no move to object, though one of us surely should have in such a position. He tasted impossibly good, like something I had always loved but never known until now. He ran his fingers through my hair, over my skin and when I reciprocated, he actually shivered. _

_I broke the kiss, eyes heavy lidded with lust. "Are you sorry?" I whispered, holding him close, my lips inches from his, as I prayed to anyone listening that he would say no. I couldn't even contemplate what I would do if he turned and left. _

_He seemed to be debating it, a struggle visible in his eyes as we stared breathlessly at one another. I prayed that our first kiss would not be our last. _

_Finally, he yanked me to him, devouring my mouth with his own, tangling his hands in my hair while I clawed at his skin to pull him closer; though it simply wasn't possible. There couldn't have been a millimetre of space between our bodies. Something built inside of me and suddenly we were moving. I was pushing him backwards, searching for leverage to get him closer to my body. I'd slammed him into a wall. . A loud crack came from behind me, the wall was dented, but neither of us could stop the frenzied kiss long enough to care. _

_The tension, the suppressed lust - everything that I had felt for him and denied was all coming to the surface and we put it all into that kiss, the never ending kiss. Neither one of us needed to breathe, so why would we stop? Why would we ever stop? _

_I could think of nothing but him, he filled my mind as I kissed him. Edward - corrupted, conceited, shadowy, imperious, impossible, beautiful, terrible, devastating, addictive, destructive, wonderful Edward._

_Outside of here, nothing mattered. I stopped thinking and let myself melt into him._

* * *

I could recall that first kiss so well, with such unbearable clarity. So many kisses, somewhere in the average of five hundred and eighty. But no, that wasn't individual kisses. That was simply the amount of times we had been together, how many times we'd made love over the last eight decades. Kisses from Edward were immeasurable, owing to the sheer amount he kissed. How many times he would draw back to look into my eyes and start all over again. There was no way to count those, but still, that first kiss played over and over again as I tried not to lose myself completely in this latest one.

So many years of this, of everything between this not quite managing to replace _this_. I wondered, _needed_ to know if he felt like this with Bella. I didn't have ask.

I pulled back, breathlessly. "Never," he swore to me and though given the circumstances I could hardly feel gratified, some part of me was relieved that he was still _mine_ to some extent.

Just like that first time, his hands were in my messy, wet hair, pulling my face even closer to his, angling so we could taste as much of one another as possible. My fingers raked through his hair, over his scalp, down his face and over his chest. His mouth hovered over mine, both of us trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the rain or the cold or even the adrenaline of the unspeakable cruelties we had screamed at one another only minutes ago.

Unstoppable as always. Our own morals, decency and loyalty could do nothing to stop the inevitable pull that lay between us. Always there, only ever dormant at best. He was Edward and I was Rosalie and this was the only way it could ever be.

I pulled him back to me, because the tiny amount of distance between us actually hurt me. It felt like it had been years since we'd been able to touch like this, to _feel_ like this, to have one another like this…as we were always meant to be, despite whatever we told ourselves. Our bodies didn't lie; this was Meant. To. Be. Two halves of the same whole, screaming for completion once more…it was unbearable to be _just_ kissing him, while my body screamed for more, always more.

I didn't hear the ripping of fabric, nor the gasp he let out as my mouth detached from his to trail my mouth down his chin, neck, chest and then to shove him backwards into the mud and rain. Our hands were tightly bound together, our bodies melded in such a way that there could not have been a centimetre of space between us. But it was more than that, more that the sheer momentous physicality, burning it's way through us…it was our minds, our soul. In a few moments they would be touching. That raw part in each of us, torn in half once and locked away until we could be like this…soon it would be whole, soon it would be singing with completion.

He pushed up from the ground and rolled me over, our positions reversed. His mouth slammed back to mine and I clutched at him, trying to find some measure of gravity before my mind lost all roots in sanity and simply drifted away. I felt mud on my back, on my neck and knew my clothes were gone. His lips were eager to replace them, dragging his lips all over my skin leaving traces of unbearable heat everywhere, extracting a drawn out, guttural moan from the back of my throat. When his mouth came back to mine, I could feel him, every part of him and there wasn't anywhere we weren't touching; our bodies almost mirroring each part, to make sure it wasn't without that ever necessary contact.

I tasted tears in my mouth that weren't my own and I knew he was crying, but it was too late now, too late to stop and pull ourselves back.

"I wish I didn't love you," he cried softly into my mouth, in stark contrast to the relentless fervency of our actions. I steadied myself, gripping his shoulder with one hand. "But I do…love you so much, Rose…ahhh…too much, God I wish…"

"Shut up," I whispered, hearing my own broken voice and knowing I was crying too. I silenced him with another kiss, this time keeping his mouth immovably on mine so he couldn't speak anymore. His lips, his tongue, the heat, his hands, his chest against mine…God, _everything_…

I threw myself into him, allowing the screaming splinters of our soul the contact they eternally demanded. The ecstasy of something so simple shocked through me and I felt my jaw go lax as everything faded to white, then black and then little stars appeared before my eyes. The rain faded into nothingness, the world melted away into a nonexistent dream and there weren't two people lying on the ground, in the mud, there was one, whole being. One soul, one mind, one consciousness. I felt it as if he were feeling me, the pleasure - if that was the word, it fell painfully short to describe it - doubled because I could _feel_ what he felt, and vice versa. An endless cycle of sensation and rapture and God why couldn't this just go on _forever?_

But the rain didn't stop, the world still turned and though I was in no condition to acknowledge it just then, I knew…some part of me just knew…that once this was over, things were going to be a lot worse than they were before.

* * *

_**A/N** - I really should have put a warning at the beginning about serious amounts of angst in this, but it wouldn't have looked all pretty and I really love that quote. Anyway, let's get the boring history and creative narrative of this cursed chapter out of the way, shall we?_

_If anyone reads my LJ, they'll know that the first version of this chapter was destroyed by stupid, evil viruses and I was literally forced to rewrite the entire thing, hence the massive amounts of waiting time once again. I apologise once more, the next one won't be so long as *Gods willing* this laptop is reasonably reliable. However, after rereading this chapter, and recalling the premise of the last, lost one…I'm forced to conclude that this was WAY better. I actually kind of love this chapter, which is pushy and all but my sweat, blood and tears went into this and I actually like the outcome, which is odd because usually I don't like a chapter until its been posted for about two or three months. Ah well, mysterious ways and all that._

_Onto the chapter itself, yes it was massively angsty and might I add, hard to write. I'm hitting a point now where the characters want to swear and I'm containing it because despite the odd 'Bastard' and 'Bitch', I always feel funny about actually writing proper curses, unless I do it from the start. If this prospect pisses anyone off, let me know. Always so very open to suggestion._

_The Brit in me struggled to full grasp the concept of 'Car Insurance' as well, and though it's a very minor point, I'm pretty sure I still got it wrong. You guys have insurance policies for the person, right? Not the car? Oh well, if it's wrong, please correct me. Aside from TV and films, my knowledge of your awesome world is somewhat foreign to me and my British ways._

_Also, the last part where Rosalie recalls the first kiss, is directly taken and edited for different POV from their actual first kiss. I'm not plagiarising myself, lol. Or maybe I am. It's 02:00am here and I'm ill again so forgive any mistakes or madness on my part. I've worked on this literally all day. *Hint* review!*Hint*._

_Can't think of anything else to say other than how much I love and adore you all. I'm sure I've blabbed before, and shall again, about this, but seriously - you all rock and have made a difference in my life. My life which, if you've seen my weird little LJ, is doing good! *Frantically knocks on wood!*_

_Thanks so much for reading and for sticking with me during these last six months of sheer insanity. Six months in which I've posted three chapter. Terrible, terrible writer I know. I hope to remedy these gaps._

_Anywho, love you all._

_Bex_

_X x x x_


	33. Chapter 33: Eros and Thanatos

**-Chapter Thirty Three: Eros and Thanatos-**

'_Wretched, look at me I've lost it,  
__Melting on the table, in parking lots and markets.  
__I can't help it, loved you like a starfish  
__Loves the salty water, like a selfish daughter.  
__Yet I wrote the words to the swan song,  
__The author of the wrong.  
__I said what I said, I meant it,  
__But now I regret it.'_

_-A Fine Frenzy_

_*_

The evolution of a being, one who has time to look at themselves with the hardness of immortality, was strange and sometimes terrifying. People expect themselves to always stay the same, to always remain faithful to their ingrained dogma, whatever it may be. Those systems of belief that we develop when we are young and first coming to see the world, we imagine they will last forever; we presume that it is who we are.

But time changes so much, and without the fear of death to keep one in line, the being evolves beyond what they ever thought they could be.

From a young age, I'd been taught never to hit a woman. My father had taken me aside and told me this himself as if it made up for all the time we'd never spent together. As if this would be some great moment between us.

'_Never,' _he'd told me, surveying me over his beautiful, ballooned brandy glass_. 'Ever hit a woman, Edward.'_

This was hard to swallow, even at the tender age of nine, as I had seen my father hit my mother before. The image stayed with me, as did the raw, natural shock of witnessing something so painfully unexpected.

'_But father…,' _I'd started to say, until he cut me off with a warning look.

'_Trust me,' _he breathed, looking as resentful as I'd ever seen him. '_Never give a woman good reason to hate you. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'_

'_So that's why you shouldn't hit women?' _I'd asked him, knowing that my thirst for anything but surface knowledge was irritating him as it always did. _'Because they'll hate you?'_

He scowled, eyes narrowing to slits that looked somewhere past me, past the fire and the alcohol tinted glaze. To a place I couldn't see and hoped I would never know. _'A woman's hatred isn't the same as a man's. Men are forthright regarding their anger. Men do not conceal their hatred. A woman can hate you forever, but say your name every day with a smile.' _He shook his head, clearly talking to himself by this point. '_Never give them that much. You don't want them to have that power.'_

I'd sworn to myself there and then that I would never be like my father. I would never hurt a woman, no matter what she did to me. I would be a better class of man than he was.

But of course, time has other ideas for us. Everything changes, everything falls apart and is rebuilt because of our determination to survive and improve. Rosalie had taken my world, my morals, my beliefs…and shattered them into oblivion. There was no creature on the planet who could affect such astounding, terrible changes in me like Rosalie Hale. No amount of struggle against this change had made the slightest difference; she had wrought the alteration, shifted the shape of who I was, making it impossible for anyone but us to even notice.

The very few times I'd hit her stayed with me, always ripping a piece of myself out and replacing it with this nasty, icy cold grey splinter in the base of my spine. One less thing to think well of myself for. One more thing to regret and brood over. The fragile, almost childish ideologies of humans fell into startling irrelevance when faced with what lay between us, immovable and eternally insatiable.

Premarital sex was perhaps one of the worst things about these weaknesses; changes, alterations, concessions….whatever the phrasing. Though I would never openly admit such a thing, in either lifetime, I had always looked forward to being married. Not so much the wedding, but the concept of having someone who was mine, and who I belonged to in equal parts. A person who fit the hole inside of me; someone who loved me, who completed me. The idea of sharing such a bond, that only matrimony could release it's love, it was something that privately I had always been eager to experience. Marriage meant a lot to me, as I was always so determined to do a better job than my disinterested father. I wanted what my mother would tell me about in story books. I wanted the closeness, I wanted the intimacy. I still did.

Silly, childish ideals, of course, but again…another rule broken for her. Another sacrifice I never thought I would make, let alone make willingly.

Another principle of myself, when I was young at least, was that I hated lying. Lying was the furthest thing from the truth, and I was very fond of the truth. I hated lies and deceptions. That had shifted almost instantly, though admittedly before I'd even met Rosalie Hale. I'd begun to lie to Carlisle after returning from my ten year rebellion of consuming murderers and wrong-doers. I couldn't bear to disappoint him, to see that look of failure in his eyes so I lied to him and quenched my thirst without his knowledge.

It had become too much for me at one point. Carlisle was, and remained, the foundations of my world in countless aspects. After all, there was an impressive stretch of time when it was only the two of us and in many respects, I fell in love with him. The father I never had, the teacher I so longed for who would never tell me to stop asking questions or that I was asking beyond my years about subjects better left alone. He was everything good, everything I wanted to be but knew I never could. Lying to him was wrong, deeply _wrong_ and it left scars on whatever fragments of soul I might have had.

So of course, I had gone to him with the intention of telling the truth. Youth held little but brazen stupidity in my recent estimation; back then, however, I was certain that my actions would be sure to epitomise the famous Latin phrase _VeritasVos Liberabit. _Surely, the high road would rid me of the guilt I felt in deceiving someone I so loved.

But she had stopped me. Even then she was the unknowing counterpart of my existence; able to pull me back from my own stupidity at a time before we had even touched one another. It was unthinkable now, to imagine a time when I could not imagine how she would feel against my skin, how she would smell, sound…move. She had insisted that the truth was the surest way to hurt them. Lies would protect them from what I'd done, she'd told me.

So it began. Endless, ceaseless lies and even more to cover for those lies. A tangled, incessant web of well intentioned deceit to protect those I loved from my failures.

All my morals and ethics destroyed; only remnants remained, inflamed when indignation struck. I knew what I was now, lying there in the mud and the rain, so deeply entangled in the woman I loved, adored, hated, worshiped, was so thoroughly possessed by….

I was her.

It made no sense really, not at any level of logic but that didn't mean it wasn't true. There was no other explanation for it, no other words, no amount of eloquence or philosophy could justify such actions. It wasn't just love - love would have given in and died years ago, it would have faltered beneath the guilt and the weight of such lies. It wasn't just infatuation - such a thing would have weakened and cooled, dampened by familiarity and disagreements.

No, of this I was clear. Not love, not lust, not because she was forbidden, not because she could do this to me…set me on fire like this.

We were one and the same and everything we did to deny it came flying apart as we lay like this. Looking down at her, propped up by what little strength remained in my arms, her hair was almost brown; wet mud and dirt stealing it of it's natural gold. Her lips were swollen and red; impossibly red. And her eyes…God, would I ever be able to look away?

What seemed like years of cold defiance and icy stubbornness that we could be apart for so long, that we could pretend we weren't made to do this, _made_ to fit like this…they melted away, unable to withstand the heat…the black, beautiful heat that smouldered between us. A heat born not only of our bodies, but of our soul…of the connection that lay undying between us.

She had possessed me completely this time. Whereas before I was able to limit the transference, this was different. No holds barred, no holding back…nothing to hold onto but each other and this time I had not been able to distance myself and simply swirl in the physical pleasures. This time I was swallowed whole, taken willing prisoner and trapped within. The skin and bones screamed and demanded to give way to whatever was inside, the creature inside us both that yearned for completion. The skin grew furiously hot, as if trying to melt and the bones thrummed and ached as if trying to break themselves apart…all to make way for whatever lay inside us both; the essence of whatever we both were.

I swallowed a sigh from her mouth and chased the echo of my name around her lips, trying to capture it uselessly. She tilted to bring her mouth directly back to mine and join us once more. A desperate, broken groan choked it's way from the back of my throat as her hands trailed all over my body once more. How many more times could this happen in so short an amount of time? Literally, insatiable. Her fingertips knew where to trail lightly and where to drag down, pulling that willing flesh any way she saw fit. Her strength kept me in place, her legs wrapped around my thighs tightly; unnecessarily insistent.

Gasping hard, it seemed I would _never_ catch my breath, my trembling hands rose to tangle once more in her messy, muddy hair. The ceaseless rain hit my back and trickled away in rivulets off my sides, but it was a lost sensation at this point. Shaking as much as I was, she put her fingers to my parted lips and gently held me back from resuming the endless kiss.

"God," she breathed, her tremors cracking it's usually flawless timbre. "I can feel…I can feel us, right here."

She put her wet palm flat to my chest where a beating had once been. Her eyes were impossibly alight and alive, the whole world was contained within them and I felt as though I could fall into them and never resurface.

"I know," I managed to reply, my throat constricted with the effort of containing the all too powerful sensations that tore through us, ripping away the dusty quiet that had settled for too long. "I always knew…could always feel it."

She kissed me with a force that almost matched the urgency pulsing through me; such desperation that she might have actually been trying to physically bond us together. I was helpless to do anything but return the favour and push against her, into her…always into her, falling, tumbling, rushing into the ecstasy and catastrophic paradise that her body and soul offered. Our hands clasped too tightly, our lips trying to weld together using the unnatural heat, the blinding electricity.

She was whispering into my mouth, God what language even was it? Were they words, did it even matter? I felt her mind…_our_ mind…as she wrapped herself around me even more. Her thoughts swam with mine, blending like two drops of water; irretrievable and inseparable. The unbearable bliss, the intolerable, bittersweet pleasure was such that it brought tears to my eyes. Immortal or not, we were still poor conduits of such a phenomenon, unable to contain it fully and unable even to let it run through us without some serious loss of control and self. Whatever words she was whispering were half garbled, unformed words that fell from her lips into mine without any comprehension from either of us.

I could feel myself being swallowed, like an object without gravity being pulled helplessly into a black hole. The inevitability of it was startling and I felt stupid in those moment before I fully lost myself in her, that I had ever tried to deny something that was so…_so_….

* * *

Eventually, with extreme effort and suppression, we managed to separate.

Though there was no shame, there should have been but there simply wasn't, I knew that we had to stop soon enough or we would lose everything. Our family, those we loved. And I knew, from the shape of her thoughts, that she wasn't ready to lose that much. As we searched for our filthy, torn clothes in the mud and rain, something I had said to Rosalie years ago ran through my mind repeatedly.

'… _I'd take you from him in a moment if I thought you'd come with me. I'd break his heart if it meant I could have you.'_

For not the first time I was intensely grateful that Rosalie could not read minds. Her mind was spinning, the same as mine was, and she was trying to make herself focus on what she needed to do in order to right the wrongs with regards to Emmett. She was painfully aware, as was I, of just how close together we were. Of how the rain made it so we were out of sight, hidden away by the veil of water and darkness. Of how her skin still sang in memory of my touch.

I thought back to the time when I had said that to her.

"… _I'd break his heart if it meant I could have you."_

Surely that wasn't true. I loved my brother. Those words were born out of heat and wildness, desire and not a little madness.

Then why were they circling my head in such a frenzy?

'_Would she?' _I asked myself. _'Would she come with me?'_

Something inside of me stirred with disgust. Bella flashed before my eyes and I faltered. My lovely, precious Bella; I loved her so much that my breath caught in my chest. And yet…

The idea that we could be together, forever, was undeniably persuasive in almost every way that seemed to matter. If Emmett left her, really left her, then we could go to Carlisle and Esme; tell them that we were so in love it was destroying us both. We could lie, tell them we'd never acted upon it since we had publicly separated. We could leave, go away together and lose ourselves in a place where no-one had ever heard English words. Get lost in each other, forever.

'_Do not be stupid.'_

The voice materialised swiftly, putting paid to my short lived, highly dubious plans. Clenching my jaw together, gritting my teeth I pulled on a pair of filthy trousers and forced myself not to look behind me, where I knew she was pulling on her dress (which, previously, had been quite beautiful) and trying not to think similar thoughts to me.

'_You love Bella. Remember Bella? Your one true love, the girl who wants to sacrifice her soul for you? Ah yes, you do remember. Well now that you're all caught up again, maybe you could spare a few thoughts for her instead of planning ridiculous, pathetically childish runaway schemes!'_

I smiled bitterly as Rosalie's mind endured the equivalent. Emmett and Bella…they would never know how much they had in common. With effort, I shoved the longings aside and tried to force my mind into the situation at hand.

Things were starting to fall apart and if one of us didn't catch them before they hit the ground, all would be lost.

But her mind, God it was hard to stay sane when she was thinking like that.

'_Hands all over me, kisses still fresh on my neck… how can I stay this far away? He's right over there…just reach out and touch him, just touch him once and it'll stop hurting. Just one touch, one kiss and I'll be able to breathe…"_

"Rose," I said, trying desperately to keep it neutral. ""Your car is wrecked, Emmett is gone and we….we're not exactly in the best position to be so close to a public road. Please, _please_ try and stay focused?"

The strain was evident in her reply. "Yes."

I tried to fight how much I wanted to take her in my arms once more and connect my mouth to hers. My body was hurting just as much as hers was and we both knew why. We had gone too deep into one another this time, and the retraction was agonising. No distance, no holding back…this was what we got. Contact would soothe the building ache, the screaming demand that was furious at the loss. The desire simply to touch her, to _feel _her…

I closed my eyes and thought of Bella, and Emmett…and our family. "I'll call a mechanic, get them to tow the car and see what they can do with it. You need to call Jasper."

Caught off guard, she sounded more present, more grounded. "What?"

"Jasper is the only one who can distract Alice enough, just in case. Call him."

I knew that she and Jasper weren't exactly on the best of terms, and it marked the situation that she didn't object. Her mind recalled a hopeful moment when he had winked at her before leaving for the stupid Human-Charade Soiree, perhaps signalling solidarity. The thought was disjointed, affected by her current stream of desires and desperation.

She swore a few seconds later.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wiping yet more rain from my face. I was almost fully dressed now and absolutely filthy. Any part of my body that wasn't smothered in mud, was wet with rain, though still tingling with unbearable warmth and pleasure.

She swore again, shaking her head. "My phone, my purse…it's all at the hotel."

I thought for a few moments, trying to separate our minds so that her thoughts didn't blend so easily with mine. Logic was hard to pin down, but I managed to find some. "Actually, that's a good idea. We can go back, get cleaned up and call Jasper from there. Then you can find Emmett and sort this whole thing out."

There. I could be the rational one, the one who made the hard decisions because right now, she couldn't. I could do that for her, couldn't I?

Uncertainty and fear spiked through her mind, flashing images of Emmett leaving. I winced, seeing for the first time her reaction to him leaving. Seeing her fall to the floor, seeing the world crumble around her. I tried to shut it out, but in this state of mind I wasn't capable of such a feat.

If he was angry at her, I could only imagine his reaction the next time he saw me. I loved Emmett so much, he was my brother…he meant _so_ much to me. But of course, I deserved anything he did. Anything he said.

"Fine," she said and it sounded detached now, cold almost. "Call the mechanic and I'll go back to the hotel. You should go home."

'_Distance, need distance…keep him away and maybe I'll be able to think straight for a moment.'_

Her thoughts were too close, physically, to my own. There was no space between my own reflections and hers. I heard her voice in my head as if it were mine.

"Like this?" I asked, turning to face her in the darkness. "I look like I just erupted from the Black Lagoon."

She snorted, despite herself. "Fine, you can clean up, but then you leave. Alright?"

I knew why she was being so brusque, that it wasn't simple spite. There were reasons behind it, reasons I understood all too well.

It was too difficult being close now. The connected we'd been too weak to deny, was alive and thrumming through us both at an agonising, demanding rate. The desire, the impossibly magnetic draw…it was too much. Proximity was painful enough, but touch or prolonged eye contact would ruin us both.

And though it might not have seemed possible, things could get a whole lot worse if that were to happen again.

* * *

The hotel was oddly cold when we arrived. Having had the remains of her car towed away for some hefty and expensive repairs, the journey to the hotel room through the rain had been a silent one. Walking side by side, just managing not to touch her was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. The surrounding downpour acted as a shroud, a blanket that seemed to hide us from the rest of the world; the urge to kiss her, throw all remaining caution to the strong, blustery winds was a powerful one.

It didn't help that her thoughts practically mirrored mine.

By the time we were inside the room, it was well past two in the morning. We had bypassed the front desk and what would have been a very confused receptionist. Instead, we climbed in through the windows.

For one terrifying moment, I thought that perhaps Emmett had returned and was waiting for her. Imagine that; Emmett waiting for Rosalie, to apologise for leaving and then we both climb gracefully through the window, covered in mud and grime and the scent of one another.

But he wasn't there, thankfully.

Rosalie picked up her belongings, trying to hold herself together. She had already dialled Jasper's number by the time I'd turned on the shower. I closed the door behind me and stripped off the filthy garments, dropping them in the base as I climbed in.

The water was scalding hot, as hot as water could be before it began to bubble, but it wasn't enough to remove the feeling of penetrative cold that had seeped through my skin, into my bones.

The mud washed away easily; the hot water burned and cleansed until not a remnant remained. I used as much of the shampoo as possible, remembering that Rosalie would need some herself, until all lingering traces of her scent were completely gone, washed down the drain. I looked down at my trembling hand, so painfully lost. I leant my forehead against the cool tiles and prayed for intervention. For help, for guidance…anything.

But nothing came.

I washed my clothes by hand in the shower until they were as clean as I was. Once outside, I wrung them out easily until they were nothing but damp. I dressed, despite the fluffy warm towels on the rack because it was unforgivable recklessness to be near to her in anything but clothes.

I looked at myself in the mirror, half expecting to see some massive change. I wiped away the steam with one hand, watching for anything that might indicate alteration. Yet nothing had changed, not really. I looked the same as I always did, from that first night when I awoke and the horrendous pain had ended. My eyes were a little lighter, oddly. Some of the shadows seemed to have gone, but that could have been the lights.

A knock on the door drew me from my distracting vanity.

"Are you done?"

"Yes," I answered, rubbing my damp hair with a spare towel and turning from the mirror to the door. It opened and she waited for me to pass her, not trusting herself to be so close in such an enclosed space. "All yours."

Her lips thinned at my word choice, while I cursed myself inwardly.

"Jasper says everything is alright with Alice," she told me before she went into the bathroom. "He said she's seen nothing out of the ordinary."

I frowned, trying to sift through everything for answers. "How can that be? Emmett's gone, things have changed now."

"Maybe not," she said slowly, avoiding my eyes as much as she could. "Maybe nothing will change."

I grabbed her upper arm in my hand and made her look at me. "Something has to change, Rose. Something _has to change._"

Her mind raced and her emotions flared beneath it, invisible to me but still I sensed them somehow. She yanked her arm back, hating herself and the entire situation.

"Don't," she begged. "Please. Just. Don't."

"I know you don't want to talk about it, and we never do, but this can't carry on, Rosalie! We have to walk about this!" I begged her, swallowing a sob that wanted to accompany that loss of pride.

Her back hitched just a little, as if she too was swallowing down something considerable and equally unadvisable. "No," she insisted, not meeting my eyes.

"Please! _Please!_"

"And talk about what, exactly? What precisely are we going to talk about, Edward?" she snapped, but it wasn't as cold as it could have been.

I grabbed her fully and made her look at me, right at me. "We have to talk about us! We have to talk about what the hell we're doing!"

She wrenched herself from my grasp with unnecessary violence. "So now you _want _to talk? Well go ahead!"

"I'm sorry," I said, without even thinking. "I'm sorry for what I said to you about Royce King!" She flinched. I _hated_ that she flinched. Before she could respond, I pressed on in an effort to rid myself of at least some of the guilt that plagued me. "I didn't mean it, Rose. You must know that I didn't mean to say that to you. Of all the things in this life, what happened to you haunts me more than almost anything. The very thought of it…I hate that I said that to you, I hate myself for even being _able_ to say it. Please forgive me, Rosalie. Please know that I didn't mean it."

It came out in a graceless flurry, with little or no elegance. Her furious expression threatened to soften as I ran out of highly maladroit words, but she caught it before any change could affect her brilliant façade.

"It hardly matters at this point," she dismissed, and went to turn her back on me in favour of the bathroom. Desperate for any form of communication at this point, I grabbed her by the hand and spun her back to me.

"Don't go," I outright pleaded, desperation stripping me of all eloquence. "Don't do this to me again; don't give me this and take it away without a word."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "And what are _you_ doing to me, if not the exact same thing? What do you think it does to me having to see you with Bella?"

"And you with Emmett?"

"Emmett is everything you can never be!" she hit back quickly. "Emmett is everything I could ever want!"

"And yet," I growled in reply, pulling her even closer. "He will never know you the way I know you!"

Her jaw ground down on the words that her mind was not so quick to hide.

'_Nor Bella with you…but it alters nothing! You only want to talk because I am refusing to do so and it does not matter that I want to touch you, kiss you…fall into you as much as you do! None of that matters because we have responsibilities to those we love! If we talk to one another you _know_ what will happen and I cannot allow it. One of us has to embrace sanity, or we'll lose everything!'_

I brought my hand up to her face, trailing my fingertips over her cheek, curving them down to her mouth. For a moment, she seemed to give in; her eyes closed and she released a deep, inconsolable sigh. Her mind turned blissfully blank and dark.

And then a new moment was born and the contact fell away. She stepped back, out of my touch and her mind viciously threw me out.

"I love Emmett," she threatened. "I love him so much and I refuse to risk losing him because you wish to indulge in your dirty little secret! Go away, Edward. Go back to Bella and stay there."

She vanished from my sight, closing the door and locking herself in the bathroom. I leant my arms against it, my head dropping down between my shoulders as I tried to regain control of any form. I heard water running, heard her clothes dropping to the floor and tried to ignore the sounds of the water hitting her skin.

I was supposed to leave now. She'd asked me to go. I should go back, return to Bella and stay with her and she had told me, in no uncertain terms.

But I didn't. For some stupid, undoubtedly ill fated reason, I went to the bed and sat on it, hands resting lightly in my lap.

If she knew I was still there, she didn't say anything. After a while the water stopped running from the shower and I, expectant idiot that I was, waited impatiently for her to come back into the room in the hope that I could force her to talk, interact…anything. When nothing happened for a minute or so, I immediately assumed she knew I was still there and was avoiding me thusly, but then the sound of more running water reached my ears. Not the even spattering of the shower, but a heavier, thicker torrent. She was running a bath. Of course, clean off in the shower first and then sit in the bath for hours, probably underwater.

I hated that I knew that about her. She could be in there for hours. There was no point in my staying now, none whatsoever.

It was one of those odd, faltering moments where the road splits in to two and you find yourself faced with a decision that is obviously going to affect everything. I knew it, could feel it easily facing me but I found myself confused and unwilling to do anything decisive.

I knew she wanted me to leave – on some level at least. She had said so, made it evident. The logical, reasonable and painfully obvious thing to do, was to leave. Walk out right now. The part of my mind that retained common sense was screaming at me to do so, but the connection was stronger than I'd allowed it to be in far too long. Rationality was nothing in the face of the overwhelming emotions that still churned within. I needed to talk to her, I desperately needed her to say…something. Anything. Her absence seemed to cause me actual pain; a connection stretched to breaking point. I threw a hateful glance at the wall that separated us, wishing it would crumble and fall. Were it not for the wall, I could be looking at her. Were it not for that wall, I was certain she would be in my arms by now.

Or would she?

I swore, only just realising that my devious brain had tricked me into walking right into a trap. Stupid metaphors.

Would she come with, if there wasn't a 'wall'? Would she even want to? Would it even _work_? If there wasn't a universal conspiracy to keep us apart, but always so close, would we even want one another? Was it just wanting the forbidden? A tragic love of tragedy?

Immediately, the thoughts were discarded. I knew with far too much certainty that such hopeful musings weren't remotely true. Though I might have wished for such commonplace, uncomplicated answers…they simply weren't applicable.

No indeed. That wall _was_ there; well and truly there. What point was there in imagining otherwise?

Her breathing was no longer detectable, which meant she had retreated underwater. I was doing my very best to block her thoughts, which was working because she was working extremely hard not to think anything at all. I began to feel intensely stupid, sitting on a human bed, like a silly, hopeful human boy. After a few more minutes of useless, masochistic introspection, I decided to get some kind of grip on myself.

I hesitated on my way to the door, wondering if I should just go in and say something before I left. The idea was dangerously pleasing, to an extent that I knew almost straight away it was a terrible one. Shaking my head, I looked around the deserted, cold room to see if I had forgotten anything important. I had no keys, no wallet, nothing. No more reasons to dither. The door was waiting and that uneasy feeling in my stomach was increasing steadily.

Finally I was there, hand extended to leave and try not to look back, when the door opened of its own volition.

My mouth parted in stupid, utterly blank shock when I saw who was standing on the other side.

* * *

"Edward," he said in such a way that my blood turned to absolute ice. It wasn't nasty or even angry…just disbelievingly hurt. It almost warranted a question mark, but he knew it was real. His mind jarred; the surprise of seeing me here immediately connecting to the pain that was in ever part of him.

And what could I say in return, but his name?

"Emmett."

For what seemed like hours, we stared at one another. I must have looked ridiculous; I certainly felt it, along with other sensations, not least of all was a paralysing fear. My mouth partially agape, my eyes too wide to be anything other than shocked; I wasn't exactly a shining example of self control.

The thing that stood out about him wasn't the fact that he was soaking wet, or that I could faintly detect the trace of tears on his black sleeve. It was his eyes. There was something that I had never seen in them before.

Betrayal.

"You're here," he stated, and again it almost required a question mark. Almost, if he hadn't said it in such a way that he seemed to _wish_ I would correct him, rather than believe it impossible himself.

My brain spun frantically; the liar inside working overtime in terrified self defence. I grappled for a decent lie, a good story as to why I was here.

And I, with all my knowledge and intelligence, said "You're here, too."

He stepped past me then, into the room and I considered briefly running for it. The situation had turned horribly on its axis, throwing me at an angle I was unprepared for.

Yet even I wasn't that much of a coward.

I closed the door and tried to steel myself.

He was looking around the room, massive shoulders full of tension. He was still dressed in semi-casual formal wear; the clothes he wore to that ridiculous party. It was extremely rare to see Emmett dressed in anything other than jeans and a shirt; Rosalie was the only person who could convince him to wear anything remotely resembling a suit. Now, standing there in dripping wet Armani with those distant, foreign eyes…he seemed a stranger to me. Back to me, he said "Where's the car?"

Caught off guard by such a strange question, I blinked.

"The car?"

He turned to face me, lips tight.

'_Yes. The car. Where is the car? I know Rosalie's here, in the bath next door. Why is the car gone?"_

I flinched slightly at his voice in my head. An unprecedented reaction regarding my brother. The liar had managed to spin something decent in the meantime.

"Rosalie crashed the car, Emmett," I said, forcing myself to sound more like myself. "She crashed it into a tree."

Concern flashed and his gaze flickered to the bathroom. He knew, as I read his thoughts, that she was alright, but it didn't stop the concern.

"Why?" he demanded softly, perhaps not wanting her to hear. He went over to the window. "Edward," he prompted sharply when I failed to answer. "Why did she crash the car?"

"Not on purpose," I said, wishing I had pockets to shove my trembling hands into. He looked out of the window at the relentless rain. "It was an accident. She was crying, she lost vision apparently. Ask her yourself."

"No," he turned fully away from the window. "I want to talk to you first."

When he met my gaze once more there was something there; something cold and forcibly distant. It chilled me to the bone, paralysing me completely.

"Alright," I said slowly, trying not to let the fear materialise in the form of a tremor. My mind found a stalling device. "If you didn't see the car, why did you come back?"

The corners of his eyes tightened momentarily before he answered. "I came back, saw the car was gone and assumed she'd left. I checked with the receptionist that she'd paid for the room, or even to see…if she'd left me a message. I left my cell in the room too; I didn't know if she'd taken it with her or not. The woman at the desk told me that she hadn't left. I came up to check it out and _you_ were on the other side of the door, smelling of hotel soap and wearing damp clothes. That pretty much sums it up."

In all the years I'd know Emmett, he had never spoken to me like that. Never cut me in half with words, expression or countenance. I felt something cold and unpleasant settle in the base of my spine. His mind was unfamiliarly dark; the darkness covering something else. Betrayal, hurt, anger, jealousy…it was unclear.

"You know what happened tonight. You know what she told me."

He paused, waiting for me to confirm. His slight southern accent was seemingly gone, he sounded a little like…well…me. This was his angry voice. I knew, because I'd heard it once or twice before, directed only at Rosalie. I had heard it echo in Rosalie's mind once or twice. She disliked it almost as much as I did. It occurred to me that if this was how I sounded all the time, no wonder people thought I was anti-social.

"Yes." What else could I say, really?

He surveyed me, the only reaction to my confirmation was that his lips thinned.

"How could you never tell me?"

Frantically, I tried to read his mind but was firmly kept locked out. Had Rosalie taught him this? I searched my mind for anything, _anything at all_ to grant me an escape from answering that question. There wasn't one. All I knew what that I couldn't answer with '_I don't know.'_

"You were so in love with her," I offered lamely. "So _insanely _in love with her and I just couldn't say anything. Not when it mattered so little to us."

His mouth curved into a wry, bitter smile. "Yeah? It was obviously important enough for you keep it a secret though, huh?"

"It wasn't a conscious thing," I replied, fighting down the urge to blurt out absolutely everything. Terrified at this sudden impulse, I clamped down my mind and clung to everything sane that remained within me. "I wanted to tell you in the beginning, I did. But I just…didn't."

He shook his head, removing the sodden jacket and placing it neatly over the back of a chair. "You remember when we'd just sit outside all night and talk?"

I swallowed, seeing instantly where this was going. "Of course."

"And I'd tell you how much I loved her, how…how _nervous_ I was of even telling her that? You remember, Edward?" Sharper now, as he began to reach his point.

"Yes."

"You know why I was nervous?" He waited, and I bit down on my lip hard enough to rip through it. "I was nervous because I thought she'd never kissed anyone before. I was nervous because of what happened to her, and I didn't want to rush into anything. I told you this, I spent hours telling you all this and you said nothing."

"I couldn't," I whispered.

"No," he said, shaking his head again. "You just let me ramble on like an idiot. You must have been laughing your ass off at me; so concerned for _her_…so excited at the idea of just being able to touch her; when you'd already done it."

"It was never like that," I swore with deep rooted fervency. "I have _never_ thought like that about you."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"It would have ruined things between us."

"You're lying. I wouldn't have held it against you and you know it. You've lied to me, so many times. The things I asked you about her, all lies. You've lied to me for years."

I felt broken in half, staggered by the guilt and sorrow that hit me in icy, bitter waves. This was worse than him pulverising me; worse than him screaming and hitting me. Worse than I'd ever imagined it, and it was only a fraction of what it could have been.

"To protect you," I exhaled suddenly, not realising until then that I'd been holding my breath. "Because I love you, I'd never had a brother and just talking to you made everything feel that much better. Christ, do _you_ remember I back then? I was a wreck! I was lost, stupidly lost in my own pathetic darkness and you were the one thing pulled me back! I couldn't tell you because I was ashamed. I knew, even then, how much you loved her and I never did. She was just…somewhere to hide. Something that I used to feel. How could I say that to you, when you were spilling your soul to me? I couldn't!"

"And in the years that followed? You couldn't have told me then?"

"I…there were times I wanted to, believe me!" I gushed, because this was true. "I hate that this was between us, after all we've been through and the longer I left it the worse it got until it seemed impossible. It was over before you even arrived, but still…it felt wrong and like a betrayal. How could I say that to you?" I heard my own voice break slightly. He wiped his mouth unconsciously and looked at the door of the bathroom.

"She was in love with you," he said softly, still staring at the door.

"What?" I choked, physical red hot pain lancing through my entire nervous system. "No, she really wasn't! Trust me."

"It makes so much sense now; all those times she'd be staring at you and I'd just put it down to hatred. To some long lost rivalry or dispute. How she went out of her way to avoid you, to hurt you…"

He trailed off, still fixated on the door. I swallowed a large lump in my throat.

"That's because all we did was hurt one another," I said, risking coming a little closer. "The hatred is because of what we did to each other. I broke her heart and she broke mine, but the truth is…we were broken beforehand. It's just easier to blame one another than it is to accept what we were before we found the people we love. I never loved Rosalie, I c-can say that with total honesty. I love Bella, I love her so much it nearly kills me. And Rosalie…she worships you. Love isn't even the word for what she feels."

I saw his jaw working, his throat clenching minutely and I pressed on.

"A part of me always knew you'd find out, that you would react like this. I never told you because I was terrified you wouldn't believe me when I said that it meant nothing. But I can say it now, because you're my brother and you know me and you _know_ how I feel about Bella. Rosalie was a distraction, an indulgence for a part of myself that should never see the light of day. It was childish and stupid and we regret it to the extent that we've never been able to be anything but distant acquaintances since."

His eyes snapped back to mine.

"What about when you'd take her back to Rochester? If you hate each other so much, why do that for her?" he demanded.

"She asked me to, I agreed. Her reasons are her own, but I know it was because she couldn't take someone she loved. She couldn't do that to someone who loved her as much as you do. She could do it to me, take me back to that place, because I could cope with it."

I could see his resolve breaking, just barely. "But you lied to me," he repeated, his own voice tinted with heartbreaking sadness and…Jesus Christ…_disappointment_. "How could you _do _that?"

Something inside of me twisted, like a knife in thick, deep flesh. I bit down the urge to scream how sorry I was and beg forgiveness. "I lied to protect you from this! From our stupid mistakes!"

Anger flared fully for the first time and he seemed to almost double in size. "I'm not a child! I don't need protecting from the past! Yours _or _hers!"

The bathroom door opened and Rosalie, wet and dripping with nothing but a towel swathed around her, stood there looking back and forth from one to the other. It was of absolutely no comfort that she was as terrified as me, though exuded nothing that might betray it.

"Emmett," she said, her voice low and tight. "What is going on?"

He looked back and forth between the both of us, something flashing behind his eyes. I read it and turned my head away, hating myself to such an extent that it generated physical contractions in my chest.

"Please," I begged hoarsely. "Do not feel like that."

"Don't tell me how to feel!" he shot right back. "You're not Jasper, you don't know a damned thing about how I feel!"

"Emmett," she tried, stepping forward, but he cut her off before she could utter another word.

"And you!" he yelled. "Don't you try to calm me down! What am I supposed to think? You tell me you were with him years before even met, then I come back and find _him_ here, squeaky clean and so scared he can barely even stand upright! What the hell am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to trust me!" she yelled right back and I wished in an overwhelming capacity that I could just vanish. "You're supposed to _trust me!"_

He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, 'cos that's what I do. I trust everyone, don't I, Rose?"

"You are blowing this out of proportion!" she insisted firmly, her eyes focused on him and him alone. I felt as though I wasn't really there, but my insides were screaming in protest at the scene unfolding; I was a child watching their parents fight. "It was before I even knew you existed!"

He closed the distance between them and I had to give her due, she stood her ground. He looked furious now, and the sight of it was truly awe inspiring. He was half a foot taller than she was, but she didn't cower away or back down.

"And what about after that, Rosalie? What about after I existed?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously; a look I had come to associate with subsequent pain. "How _dare_ you?"

He wasn't the least bit intimidated "I'll dare all I like! Don't tell me you slept with my brother and then expect it to be all fine and dandy! It's not!"

"I never slept with him and he wasn't even your brother back then you idiot! Get a grip on yourself! We couldn't be more sorry about the pathetic little incident if we tried, but I refuse to let this tear us apart!"

"How can it not? It changes everything!"

"It changes nothing!"

"You cannot seriously expect me to believe that!"

"You're being paranoid, calm down!"

But it was apparently the wrong thing to say.

"LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND SWEAR TO ME ON EVERYTHING YOU LOVE AND HOLD DEAR THAT _**NOTHING HAPPENED AFTER WE WERE TOGETHER!"**_ he roared, so unexpectedly that I actually jumped. I felt ridiculous, but I simply could not move. I heard her mind screaming in protest at the atrocities she was freshly committing; I saw her hands clench so tightly that she might actually break her own bones.

There was only a moment of silence between his outburst and her answer.

"I swear to you, Emmett," she ground out, her mind terribly calm all of a sudden; she was steeling herself for the atrocity she was about to commit. "On everything I love and hold dear that _nothing_ happened between Edward and I after I first clapped eyes on you. I swear it."

He was breathing shallowly, as if he had been running for hundreds of miles.

"If you're lying…"

"You cannot seriously think so little of me," she warned, in a very low voice.

He smiled wryly and shook his head. "I think the _world_ of you! Don't you get it? If I didn't love you so damned much, I wouldn't care! If you hadn't been lying to me all these years, I'd never have reason to question anything you ever told me!"

Perhaps they had forgotten I was even in the room. I wished for the ability to move, but it was stubbornly unforthcoming.

"I never lied to you, Emmett!" she warned. "Never outright! You never asked, and I never volunteered such information until now. The only reason we never told you is because we knew it would upset you so much. And it wasn't a secret. Carlisle and Esme knew all about it. Ask them, if you don't believe me."

He seemed surprised at that. "Really?"

"Yes," she promised. I found myself grimly fascinated by the transpiring events. The way they fought was just mesmerising. The way she knew just how to calm him down, the way they shouted, their body language. "And seriously, how stupid would we have to be to continue an affair, after Carlisle and Esme already knew that about us?"

"You…you didn't sleep together?" he fished, carefully.

She shook her head solemnly; I was able to do little else was remain thunderstruck at her sheer ability to lie. "Never, I swear to you baby. You were, in every way that matters, my first. You'll always be my first, my everything. It kills me to think that you question it."

A look of anguish crossed his features and he tilted his head to the side. She was clearly winning. I found myself almost starting to believe the incredible, unswerving lies that were coming out of her mouth.

"You should have just told me," he said, much more quietly than before.

"Yes," she agreed, taking a few small steps towards him. He didn't back away. "I should have, but I couldn't bear to see you in any amount of pain, darling. I'm not perfect, you knew this already but I just couldn't bring myself to admit to _that_. Not when I was so ashamed of it in the first place."

The pain of that sharply reminded me that I was standing in the middle of a full blown, yet rapidly cooling, domestic between what was essentially a married couple.

Very softly, so softly that I might actually have imagined it, he said "Why were you ashamed?"

Judging by her internal reaction, it was clearly not a figment of my imagination.

"What?"

He threw me a somewhat confusing, but far less hostile look before repeating his question. "Why were you ashamed? Both of you, I don't understand. If you didn't even…why were you ashamed?"

I fully expected Rosalie to take the easy route here. Blame Royce King as she so frequently did; insist that it was too soon after the incident to be considered anything other than dark and depraved and iniquitous. Instead, nothing of the sort came from her masterfully deceptive lips.

"Because he wasn't you," she said simply. "And I wasn't Bella."

I felt my own mouth open in surprise.

"It was never right between us, it felt wrong on levels that we shouldn't have ignored. But we were both hurting and I never thought that you existed. I never dreamed I would have what you showed me was possible. I never imagined for one moment that I deserved to have any fragment of the happiness you give me every day and night of our life together. We're ashamed because we weren't patient enough for our soul mates."

His anger, the jealousy and even the betrayal…it all broke apart spectacularly in a single moment. They kissed with an ease born of familiarity and overpowering reciprocity. He moved into her body, her arms with something that just screamed belonging. She met the kiss with an eagerness I had witnessed endless times, but never fully understood until now.

She did love him, she really, _really _did. They were in love in every way it was possible for two people to be.

And Rosalie and I were in love in every way that _wasn't_ possible.

I was already at the door when they broke apart and Emmett was pleading for me to wait so he could apologise.

"Wait, please wait!" he said, placing his large hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. Rose is right, I've blown the whole thing way out of proportion."

I smiled and tried to seem easy in my acceptance of his apology. "I'd be exactly the same," I assured him. "So long as we're alright?"

There was still something wounded in his eyes, lurking behind his current satisfaction and relief at having his wife back. I'd hurt him and we both knew it, but the basis of his anger was weakening. With his mind, he told me we still needed to talk this through, without Rosalie. I acknowledged this with a small nod.

But it was exceptionally clear, that he had forgiven me in every way that mattered.

"Yeah, we're good," he said with his old familiar smile, though it cost him a little something to wear it.

I tried to block out the image of Rosalie's hands curling around his waist, her body melting into his with such beautiful, loving comfort. Her eyes were averted, staring at the space to my right.

'_I'm sorry,_' was all she could think and I could _feel _her struggle somehow. There weren't words enough sufficient for expression of what she had just done or how she felt about it. _'Forgive me.'_

The door closed and before I even had time to draw in a trembling breath, my unspoken answer reverberated through my whole body.

'_Forgive us both.'_

*

By the time I returned to Bella, the sky was lightening moment by moment and the rain had all but stopped. I'd taken my time walking, not entirely certain of why I felt the need to move at such a slow pace. I watched the darkness melt away into the daylight; the rain as it eased off, to be replaced by the cool, crisp rays of a fresh sunrise. Another day, another dawn to witness without ever having missed a moment of it to the blissful sleep that the humans ignorantly bathed in.

Each step away from the hotel felt heavy, cumbersome. Unwilling movements from a place I distinctly did not belong, yet found myself reluctant to leave. My feet were filled with lead, my bones aching and cold beyond any tolerance, even for my immortal body. And my head, God my head…

I climbed the walls of Bella's house easily and perched there on the windowsill for a few moments, caught in a sudden frenzied attack of irrational concern that somehow, she would know where I had been and just what I had been doing.

But Bella was not an immortal. She had no extraordinary sense of smell. She had no amazing gift that would allow her to read my mind, or see into the future. She was Bella Swan; a human, who loved me with all her beautiful, delicate little human heart. I swallowed another lump in my throat and let the warmth of her room wash over my damp, icy skin. I was far too cold to resume my place at her side, as it would surely wake her. Yet something about just being in this room was ebbing the coldness away, moment by moment. I began to calm down, though I wasn't aware until then of just how disturbed I had been. The unnecessary breaths came easier and the airtight constriction in my stationary lungs began to loosen.

She was snoring gently; an exquisite little sound, close to a purr. Her hair was messy; she'd moved around a lot in my absence. One hand hung down off the side of her bed; I stared at it, that warm, skin covered limb. Her thin, narrow fingers looked fragile enough to snap - like hollow twigs. I could hear each individual thump of her heart; a mechanism which held cataclysmic importance to me.

"I love you, Bella," I whispered, because such a thing _should_ be whispered at such a time. "I love you so much. I only wish I deserved how much you love _me_."

There was no response; she was fast asleep, lost in dreams of love and innocent loyalty. Perhaps wading gently through imaginings of her future and the wonderful ignorance of what was to come. How delightful that must have been; to have no idea of what her future held. I longed for that childish uncertainty; wished overwhelmingly that I could alter the path I had been set on so long ago. I wished I wasn't so deeply entrenched…tangled and lost in what was now destroying me. Us.

I wiped my eyes, sweeping away sugary tears with a hand that had, only hours ago, been fixed upon someone else's face.

This was why humans were not supposed to live forever. This was why we should have died; been allowed to expire, no matter the tragedy or the loss or even the brutality. We should all have died, because such a predisposition for destruction should never be granted immortality. Our ability to devastate and ruin was limitless, the damage we could cause with a single word…a single movement, blended too easily into an action…smashing together with lethal desire and recklessness. It was a terrifying concept that should never have been sanctioned, and a part of me had to believe that if there was a God, it never would have been.

No person should have to go through this much pain and confusion, and know that it was eternal. No way out. I knew, of course, that these were self inflicted wounds. I had done this, been partner to such massive, unforgivable betrayals. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad, had we been allowed to die. Having seen over a hundred years of life now, whatever the definition, I knew with a deeply rooted certainty, that I should have been dead. It should have been over by now; a gravestone in place of this mess, an apology never spoken. Tragic and unfortunate, but _over_. Gone. Dead.

Yet it would never happen. There would never be last words, or last chances because there would _always_ be another day. Another sunrise. Another opportunity to further this self destruction. More, always more.

No death, no end.

My breath caught again and I clenched my fists together, trying to swallow down the intense sadness and melancholy that threatened to flood through me. This was battle I had managed to keep from surfacing ever since I had first awoken an immortal. The warring conflicts within, the ceaseless struggle to combat and finally come to terms with a notion that could easily be the end of me and what little sanity I had left. The turmoil was fully capable of laying dormant within me, for years if it chose to do so. But it always surfaced; each time fortifying the already considerable knowledge of what I was, and just how long I would live with that knowledge. Being the owner of such knowledge was one of the worst things about such a life. Worse than the betrayal, worse than the guilt and terror of being found out…even worse than the idea of what Rosalie and Emmett were doing in that hotel room.

Bella in all her beautiful fragility, moved a little, releasing a small noise from the back of her throat. It resounded in her neck, where the pulse was the most audible. I watched, unsuccessfully distracted by the desire to know that neck more intimately. It was always there, forever lurking beneath whatever polite, well mannered disguise I was donning; the thirst for her blood. Yet another dichotomy to cope with.

Not that I was unfamiliar with such a duality. There was always some internal conflict to manage. Love versus loyalty. Life versus death.

I sighed, wishing my mind into an attempted silence. Would there never be any form of agreement, even within my own mind? Would I never know peace?

A nasty, sly part of my mind hurled a quote at me which burned in the forefront of my brain, searing through any parts of a potential soul.

'_That soul up there which has the greatest pain,' the Master said, 'is Judas Iscariot; with head inside, he plies his legs without.'_

Words quoted by my brother, my brother who I had systematically betrayed for the last eighty years.

No, there would never be peace for me. I deserved no such thing. I didn't deserve Bella, I did not deserve my wonderful family or the unconditional love I received from them. I deserved nothing less than hell and it's contraptions. And even as the sun was rising steadily, bathing the wet, green lands of Forks in gorgeous, fresh rays, I could not help but feel that hell was not so very far away.

* * *

_A/N - OK, so I acknowledge that this was much shorter than previous chapters, but really it was for the best. I wrote a little more after this, but it just didn't feel right. It was pretty much just me letting Edward ramble on about his guilt, and the doom and the angst...which we are not in short supply of. _

_So. I ended it there, it served it's purpose anyway. The issues that were skimmed over will be dealt with later, in the next chpter which - some people will be happy to hear - is entirely from Jasper's point of view. I miss Jasper far too much and his opinions on this mess are what make life worth living. _

_Also, this is relatively unbetaed so if there are millions of mistakes, please feel free to correct me. It's 3:00am here and I just want to get it up and done. I really hope you enjoy it, I SWEAR that there will be a break from the angst. Proof is in the pudding (or, more accurately, the list of things that will occur in the next chapter)..._

_1) Jasper's musings on...everything. Plus kickass intropsection. _

_2) Bella and Emmett have a conversation. Without anyone else. _

_3) There is another baseball game. _

_4) Rosalie walks around the house in underwear and Emmett's T-Shirt. _

_5) Edward and Carlisle bond. _

See? Or at least, these things make ME happy. Ah well.

Now to thank you all endlessly for your amazing review, support and general AWESOMENESS. Without you, I'd be a hopeless case, staring at a blank page. I love you guys, you rock my weird little world. Your opinions, reviews and thoughts make my whole day/week/existence into a sunny beautiful ball of joy.

Love you all, more up soon (cos yeah...Jasper!)

Bex

x x x x x x x x x x


	34. Chapter 34: Necessary Evils

**-Chapter Thirty Four: Necessary Evils-**

*****

'_You woke up screaming aloud,  
A prayer from your secret God.  
You feed off our fears,  
And hold back your tears, oh  
Give us a tantrum  
And a know it all grin,  
Just when we need one  
When the evening's thin.  
You're so beautiful,  
A beautiful fucked up man.  
You're setting up your  
Razor wire shrine.'_

_-Sarah McLachlan_

_*_

Of everyone in the family I had come to love, I was without a doubt the one most susceptible to the lure of darkness. Even the word, though admittedly somewhat extravagant in it's multiple definitions, had a ring to it that resonated deep in the base of my spine. I was partial to whatever that darkness might have entailed or encompassed, and whereas everyone else - even Rosalie and Edward - tried to fight this instinct towards our more monstrous impulses, my efforts were comparatively minimal. I accepted what and who I was, and though the consequences of such were difficult to hide from those I loved, the resulting peace I sometimes experienced was almost worth it.

Murder was at the top of my list of indulgent sins. Taking lives and consuming the energy that had fuelled that misled life was simply a part of who I was. A part, admittedly, that I kept hidden to a certain degree. With the assistance of those closest to me in ways that did not necessarily infer actual closeness, I was able to live some small part of my previous life, and still exist fully within the new one. Sometimes I wondered if Carlisle actually believed I had renounced my old ways; did he seriously expect me to be able to fully stop, after so long? Perhaps his misguided faith in me was stronger than I'd thought.

Or perhaps denial was a beautiful, powerful thing.

I could live with my sins. Murder, lies, deception. I could exist with that knowledge, and continue to do so for an unspecified amount of time. Any remaining guilt over the loss of human life, was long since subservient to the hunger within. I made peace with my own monstrosity, my inner demon. I loved Alice, my family. I _wanted_ to believe in what they believed, but sometimes I felt like an outsider. A guest in a place where everyone was of the same belief system, and though I knew I was loved in return, I could not help but feel isolated by the differences between us.

This was one such time.

Owing to recent events, Esme and Carlisle had decided that we needed a family discussion. I tried to remind myself that these were people I loved and respected; people who obviously couldn't hear themselves when they said things like _'__family discussion,_' or _'…__ non-judgemental environment,__'_. I tried to remember that things were close to falling apart, because of two certain individuals who at this point, couldn't even really be called individuals.

They sat miles apart from one another, and again I was forced myself to remember that these were intelligent beings that, usually, I held in high regard. The fact that sitting so far from one another was the most _obvious_ thing they could have done, annoyed me more than it should have and I struggled to let it go. I tried not to feel so separate from everyone else, but it was an exercise in futility.

Everyone circled the large black marble table, still cracked irreparably down the centre. I, however, stayed away and instead leant against a nearby wall, content to watch them for now. I wished to have no part in any allegiances that would undoubtedly form in the next few hours. No-one insisted I sit down, no-one spared me more than a glance and for this I was grateful. Further attention from anyone would have been little more than an irritation at this point. My patience was already stretched thin, owing to the deluge of emotions I was currently drowning in. Emotions that were wholly not my own.

I breathed in and out a few times, trying to physically exhale the overwhelming echoes of devastating sentiments. It did nothing, save to eat away at my tolerance.

"Alright," Carlisle began, running a hand through his hair; a clear signal of apprehension. Edward shared the same habit, an odd little similarity between father and son. With Edward, it signified that someone _(Rosalie)_ had ventured too far beneath his skin. With Carlisle, it merely signified concern for his two eldest. As a watchful, comparatively quiet being, I was adept at recognising and storing these small reactions; indications that others missed. "Who wants to begin?"

Esme nodded and leant forwards, hands interlocked on the flawed, black slab. She was just as concerned as Carlisle, if not more so. Her family was the basis of her life – we were everything to her. Problems like these plagued her fragile sense of happiness, yet she hid it well from everyone but Edward and myself.

"We know that there are residual issues surrounding Bella," she started, purposefully not looking anywhere near Rosalie, who was at the end of the table, Emmett very close by. I did not do her the courtesy of looking away as I knew she would have preferred; I watched her intently, saw her hand tighten around Emmett's and watched the small smile he gave her. I swallowed down a bitter lump at his ignorance and trust. Though my sympathy and understanding of Rosalie's situation was strong and sincere, I could not help but feel somewhat defensive on Emmett's behalf. He was so blindly trusting, so stupidly in love…he couldn't see what was right in front of him. "And," Esme pressed on. "We need to discuss it. Air out any…grievances."

I silently raised my eyes to the heavens for the third time. Edward shot me a look, but it wasn't exactly reprimanding; more understanding. It didn't last long; he knew my opinion on this subject and would not press me for a reaction. I tasted fear, among the hundreds of other combined emotions.

"Grievances?" Alice asked, quite calmly. "Such as?"

Esme cleared her throat totally unnecessarily and again, made a big point of not looking at Rosalie when she said "It may be that there are lingering concerns surrounding the situation, that some people may feel uncomfortable about voicing in a less than receptive arena."

The attempted diplomacy was painfully obvious now, to an extent that even Emmett laughed softly, under his breath.

"Look, if this is about the fight between me and Rose…"

"It's not only about that," Edward interrupted gently, staring at Carlisle. "Is it?"

Carlisle held Edward's stare well until he spoke and then he directed his gaze upon each of us in turn; his 'children'.

"No," he admitted, with no shame whatsoever. "It is not only about that. We simply feel that some areas of this matter have been slightly skimmed over. We believe proper foundations need to be laid, if the longevity of these circumstances are to have any success."

Buried beneath the kindness, the concern and soft tones was a message that surprised me.

_You rushed into this. You have rushed us all into this and we were not prepared. _

Edward caught it too, or he read my mind, because his eyes darkened a fraction before his gaze swivelled to Rosalie. I expected something spiteful to come flinging out, something cruel and accusatory. But I was mistaken.

"Rosalie has no real problem with Bella anymore, right Rose?"

The corners of Rosalie's eyes tightened and I was suddenly caught in an unwanted, abusive whirlwind of mixed emotions. To name a few; anger, fear, jealousy, guilt, sorrow…love. Massive, unbearable amounts of love. Love, mingled with passion and desire and longing and the inability to breathe because there could only be oxygen when his mouth was on hers, freedom when she had shed her skin to melt into his…the two broken, shamed bodies vanishing into one glorious formless, trembling….

"Jasper?"

Edward's sharp demand brought me reeling back from the black hole that was Rosalie's complex and quite honestly terrifying emotional state. I hated when that happened; such helplessness in the face of something stronger, it was a violation. The emotions of another were usually easy to control and maintain, but Rosalie was different. There was a violent strength to her spirits, especially when cornered. No shields or controls were enough to save my sanity from such assaults.

"Yes?" I answered carefully, not wanting to reveal that I had almost been swallowed whole by the emotions of another. I scrambled to raise the barriers of my gift, striving for better control in such circumstances.

"Don't you agree? That things are better now between Rosalie and Bella?"

His face betrayed nothing, but his soul pleaded with me to agree. Everyone had turned to look at me, much to my internal dismay.

"Yes," I answered, gratitude for rescuing me contributed to my answer more than anything else. "From the time we first encountered Bella and this all began, I'd have to agree; things are better."

"Exactly," Edward went on, continuing in his attempts to heal a broken bone with a band-aid. "This is unnecessary, really. Of course it will take time, of course there will be problems, but it doesn't mean we have to call a family meeting every single time Rosalie throws a fit!"

For the first time since entering the room, Rosalie look up from the table and directly into Edward's eyes. The small frown, the hurt that radiated from her was obvious to me, and not only because I could taste it. Fractional amounts of incredulity that he would use her like that were tangled in her golden iris' and not in a particularly subtle way.

What was wrong with them? Did they _want_ to get caught?

"Hey," Emmett warned Edward, only once. Rosalie looked back at her husband and the fragments of pain vanished like slivers of ice in hot water.

"No honey, he's right," she said with loving calm. After a very brief moment between them, she directed her gaze back to Edward; this time her walls were fully functional. Lucky for some. "But I do have issues with Bella, I openly admit to that. I'm doing my best not to let it disrupt everyone else's lives, but the idea of adopting a human into our family makes me distinctly uncomfortable. I cannot alter the way I _feel_."

Carlisle nodded, leaning back into his chair. "No-one expects you to, Rose," he told her and I detected, much to my own amusement as anything else, that when he said her name like that, he really meant to call her '_darling__'_. He would never call her that in front of the rest of us, especially not in front of Edward. Edward and Rosalie were his first two children; that they were opposed so frequently and with such hostility upset him greatly. Even though the difference was fractional, almost imperceptible…he loved Rosalie just a tiny bit more. As far as I knew, this remained undetectable to Edward, who could only read thoughts. Feelings were my area, not his.

Lucky bastard.

"But it is surely better, if we all say our piece and try to come to some form of agreement. Bella isn't going anywhere in the near future."

Alice let out an unsurprising sigh of frustration. "I refuse to see what the problem is. I mean, really. Rosalie is jealous because Edward never looked at her the way he looks at Bella - Emmett is concerned about the level of Rosalie's jealousy - Edward is afraid Rosalie will sneak off into the night and kill Bella. So what?"

I felt my jaw slacken in surprise. Alice's casual, innocent declaration had floored us all. The facts, put so simply…it was strange to hear her state things like that without any real inflection or care - only impatience, because she could not see how such things were causing the problems within our potentially blissful family unit.

When no-one answered her rhetorical question, I felt my lips moving of their own volition. "It's more complicated than that," I pointed out, before I could even stop it. Now I sounded like one of _them_, defending the ridiculous unnecessary complications that ensured their own misery.

She exhaled her frustration and crossed her arms. "Only if everyone conspires to maintain such complications. This could easily be resolved and we all know it."

Edward and Rosalie made the almost unseen mistake of looking up at the exact same moment and catching one another's eye. The bolt of feeling that shocked through them was enough to make me want to gasp, but as always I quashed it down and shoved it into a box, marked '_Not Mine.__'_ I knew what they were thinking; easily resolved indeed.

Carlisle spoke up, thankfully. I felt feverishly concerned about Alice saying anything else on the subject. Her no-nonsense approach to such a dilemma was about as advisable as it was to start a fire near gunpowder. "Then let us resolve it. Rosalie? How can this be resolved in a way that benefits everyone?"

I smiled wryly at Carlisle's optimism. Rosalie swallowed reflexively, but I knew it was nervousness more than long ingrained reflexes. Her face was carefully neutral, but beneath it there was a deep, lethal torrent of emotions that should have been controlled decades ago.

Sometimes it was easy to forget just how breakable we really were. Our bodies, most definitely, were stone-like and resilient; glittering, indestructible perfection.

But our minds were not. Sanity was as fragile to us as it was to any human. The strength and durability of our skin and bones did not extend to our own state of minds. What lay beneath that tough, indissoluble exterior was frail and brittle; weak and undeniably human. Thoughts, worries, guilt, memories…all capable of eating us alive. The immortality did nothing to strengthen this part of us, and it seemed terribly unfair that a body made to endure, was not given the proper mindset to accompany it. Fragile human minds trapped inside formidable, untouchable bodies. An eternity to make a million mistakes and an eternity to live with them.

"I will adjust," she said simply, her thumb making soothing circles over Emmett's knuckles, one by one. Physically, they weren't particularly close at the moment. They could easily have been closer and no-one would have batted an eyelid. Rosalie could have been sat on his lap, even for proceedings such as these. The small, somewhat understated gesture was oddly fascinating as I tried to remain impervious to the dangerous undercurrent of her emotions. "It is simply a matter of time."

She must have been speaking to Edward through his telepathic ability, because his feelings suddenly spiked as if electrocuted. My curiosity, usually non-existent, piqued and I wondered what she had said to him. He displayed nothing to the outside world, but I was privy to a set of emotional responses that I wished deeply to be in ignorance of. They had colours and flavours; red and peppery anger…anger at himself and at the world in general. Yellow, sickly guilt seeping from him whenever he looked at Emmett, and even when he looked away. Black and delicious like fresh blood…. the desire, the love, the regret and ache that she was so..._too_... far away.

It was horribly evident, as it had been since I had known them both, that whatever he comprised of - whatever substance contributed to his being, be it the soul or whatever else - it screamed her name. It screamed at him for maintaining the careful, suspicious distance. It demanded proximity and indulgence, punishing him when he refused and denied. The punishments were indescribable; burning white hot agony, ripping through him, shredding his calm and any peace he might have possessed, were he not in this situation. It made me sad, but it was an affectation of the unwanted emotions that pulsed through me; emotions that were not and never could be my own.

Rosalie was a little more composed, but only marginally and only because she had Emmett besides her. Edward would have been the same, had he been near to Bella; stronger, happier. A few rare rays of sunlight into an otherwise black, dark existence. But it did not follow, I knew from personal experience, that the darkness was necessarily unpleasant. Darkness offered many things that light never could; comfort, secrecy, power, the possibility of _everything_ and more.

"Look," Emmett said, with a hint of impatience. "I have to agree with Alice. I really can't see what the fuss is all about. So Rosalie and Edward hate each other? That's like...what? News?"

It was clearly intended as a joke, but only Alice smiled and rolled her eyes. I realised suddenly that Alice was the only person who genuinely believed that to hold any real meaning anymore. She was the only person in our family who did not know that at one point, Rosalie and Edward had been together; touched, kissed, confided. Carlisle and Esme knew; they had initially hoped for a union between them. I knew and now Emmett knew. Only Alice remained in the dark, so to speak.

Sadness and insecurity bled from Emmett, but his expression never faltered. I wished that Rosalie had been stronger and hidden the truth better. Emmett was too good a being to face exposure, however minimal, to such secrets. Truly though, it was incredible to have remained a secret this long as it was. They risked absolutely everything in being together and they were hardly ever discreet.

"This is different," Carlisle reminded him gently. "We are all accustomed to any longstanding enmity. A playful hostility, even. This is not the same."

Again, I was shocked at the near candour of his words. Carlisle had a predisposition to dodge anything that would directly upset anyone, especially Rosalie or Edward, but the situation was too far removed from familiarity and he was making that apparent.

"Different?" Edward queried, coldly.

"Because of Bella," his father replied honestly. "It's different because of Bella. You and Rosalie have never been on good terms as it is, now with this added strain I..._we_ fear that this could cause a serious division between you. It's why we need to talk about it, before any more damage can be done."

"What damage?" he asked, rather stupidly in my opinion.

Emmett gave him a pointed, but not unfriendly look. "Ahem." Rosalie shot her husband a muted glare and Edward ran a hand through his hair haphazardly. I sighed, wondering when either of them would ever learn what the word '_control'_ actually meant.

"Alright, I admit that it's causing friction between Rosalie and me." He, myself and Rosalie all winced internally at the terrible choice of phrasing. "But it's not like it's intentional. I do not wish to cause such disharmony, simply in finding happiness. I am sorry that it obviously has."

"Indeed," Esme contributed. "Therefore, how can we resolve this issue?" She glanced around the table hopefully. "Anyone?"

I knew how Rosalie would resolve the situation. One snap of the neck, a few years of mourning for the late Miss Swan. I knew that Emmet wanted to leave for a while – his need for distance from the madness was almost as strong as mine. The difference being that his need was more likely to see fruition. Alice would not leave, under any circumstances.

But how would Edward resolve this? Who did he wish away from his life, in order that it might know some semblance of peace? Did he wish Rosalie to be gone? Bella? Himself? He was better at shielding his feelings from me than the others and his emotions were murkier than the rest. He had intimate knowledge of how to raise walls against my perceptivity.

"Time," Edward answered. "All we need is time and maybe a little tolerance."

That hurt Rosalie and I felt almost the full weight of it. No-one could hurt Rosalie like Edward, even unintentionally.

Sometimes, not infrequently with Rosalie and Edward, I was taken aback by the sheer force of their emotions. These were feelings that I would have preferred to ignore wholeheartedly. I was a being who did not revel in commotion and excessive drama; the emotions of others were sufficient enough without my contributions. I learned to control this, to an admittedly minimal extent. I could see and even sometimes feel the sentiments of others; I could examine and manipulate those passions and tragedies to my own will. I could remain relatively uninfected, if I applied strength of will.

But not with _them_.

Rosalie in particular, had a way of dragging me down with her. Such was the intensity of their inflections; the lethal undertow that refused to be held at bay. I had come to dread those moments of undiluted darkness and desperation. They would irrevocably rip themselves to pieces, only to better see what lay beneath. Without the exterior they had furiously torn away, nothing lay between them and the depthless insanity of who they really were. And determined as they were to be miserable, unhappy and tormented…without their day-to-day façades and concealments, it was literally hell on earth.

Radiating from them, even now, the desire and longing to meld into one being generated as a physical need to rip out of their own skin. Like something inside beating it's way out, demanding freedom and rebellion from the lives they forced themselves to live. They could have so easily melted into one another; every part of them thrummed with the effort of restraining such a desire.

I often wondered why they fought it. The answers were obvious; the ones they loved, fear of judgement, an aversion to betrayal…

But far less obvious, was the actual truth of the matter.

It was their indomitable determination to remain individual that kept them from finally giving in. The magnetic forces that insisted they were one and whole were strong, but their innate stubbornness was stronger. The fear of losing themselves in one another was painfully heightened by the fact that both knew it would be a permanent loss. Neither would recover; all individuality would blend together and they would lose what they had wrought from pain and separation and destructive stubbornness.

Another troubling aspect was that neither one believed they deserved what could potentially be achieved by simply accepting the fact that they _were_ the same soul…meant to be, as destined as possible before it became a cliché. The genuine elation, actual rapture they experienced in the small amounts of time they accidentally allowed themselves to be together was terrifying, especially to two such dark souls.

They were all this, but equally capable of destroying one another beyond the limit of devastation. They had no instincts of when to stop; of what was too much, too hard, too cruel. They cut into one another as if it were their own flesh; a violence born with the blindness of self harm. There were no boundaries, even when there obviously should have been. No limits, no safety words. Nothing to hold them back from tumbling into each other headlong, but their own strength of will.

"Time," Rosalie echoed, bringing me back from my grim introspection. "Time indeed. What else is there but time? I shall try harder in future not to create more complications than already exist. Believe me, Edward," she added and I flinched as her mouth formed his name. "I derive little amusement from such tribulations."

They had successfully hurt one another, yet again. It was evident in their manner of tone and articulation. The more they hurt each other, the more they reverted into archaic, elongated speech. I'd heard Rosalie speak to Emmett in such a way that she could easily have passed for someone born in the last thirty years. I knew that strong, taut accent could melt away into loose, modern American. Edward was equally capable of such alterations, particularly with Bella.

But at times like these, they spoke with the utmost pronunciation and eloquence. An almost English edge was audible. Carlisle's influence, I knew. Words made into weapons. Surely I was not the only one to have noticed such interactions?

"Time is all well and good," Esme agreed tentatively. "But what of the current tension? Is there no chance of resolving the issue now?"

Rosalie sighed. "I shall endeavour to think of my brother's happiness and find things about Bella that are pleasing. That she contributes to your happiness," she directed at Edward. "Is the only reason I can even tolerate the idea of her joining our family. I'll work on finding more reasons. Is that better?"

Esme smiled, oblivious to the massive double entendre interwoven in the bruising yet hollow promise. "Good, thank you Rosalie. Edward?"

Emmett looked down to hide a smile, expressing his amusement at the childish treatment both Edward and Rosalie were receiving. Esme seemed sincere in her actions and he would not want her to be upset. Edward steeled himself, it reverberated through me.

"I'll be more considerate of how this affects everyone, I know it's all happened very fast and it's unfair of me to expect everyone to fall in love with her just because I have."

I winced openly at the fresh spike of white hot pain that shot through Rosalie, and so through me. Carlisle was apparently not oblivious to this.

"Well done, Edward," he said placing his hands on Esme's shoulders. "I think that's all for now, unless anyone else wished to add something?"

No-one did. Everyone sensed that now was a good time to implement some distance between the most explosive of siblings, lest all the good intentions and apologies shatter and fade. Collectively, we filtered away to be alone in our coupled state; Edward, of course, to go to Bella. It was evening time and she would wonder at his absence.

I only hoped she would never know the full extent of her involvement in this family's issues. I hoped that Rosalie and Edward could continue their masterful deceit until one of them was strong enough to finally end the ensuing madness. In the want of such strength and decency, the secondary comfort was often deceit.

I hooked my arm around my lovely Alice, kissing her hair in a rare display of public affection, as I pondered the strangeness of necessary evils.

* * *

Over the next few days I found myself marvelling at the speed and efficiency of my family in their efforts to regain normalcy. Situations that should have been given time and consideration were rushed back into routine with an unnatural proficiency. It stood testament to the fact that we were nothing if not flawed beings, regardless of what wisdom we appeared to possess. No-one really knew how to deal with the tension that remained and everyone made a conscious effort to regain the peace and tranquillity that usually emanated from the walls of our chosen domicile.

The state of things began to reform with some familiarity as I witnessed everyone making extraordinary exceptions, in the name of peace and harmony. Rosalie and Edward, much to my surprise, did not go out of their way to ignore one another. On the contrary they spoke in public, on what could even be deemed good terms. Polite, tentative exchanges with no detectable hostility. Perhaps they were at the epicentre of the movement towards reconciliation.

Everyone had breaking points, after all.

It was a few days before Rosalie came to me privately. I'd been waiting for her to do so, as we had yet to properly speak of the altercation between us since it had happened. Mythic, awe-inspiring vampires we might have been, but I hated being on bad terms with Rosalie and I knew she did too. Family was of massive importance to us all, even to myself – a cynical, instinctively withdrawn being. We were all aware of the isolation that existed outside of those walls and the arms of the ones we loved. In the shallow, mistrustful eyes of those we could easily call prey, that isolation was made evident. Their world was exactly that; _their_ world. A place we could exist within for a portion of the day, but never _our_ world. Our world was made up of one another.

The gentle knocking brought me from Milton's world (perhaps a suspect for the instigation of such elegiac ruminations) and I answered, already knowing who it was.

"Hey," she said, silently entering the room and bringing with her dozen new, fresh scents. From which, I could easily discern that she had been hunting, with Emmett and that they had gotten messy. Then showered, then indulged in activities that had required yet another shower. I closed the book, cursing the heightened senses of immortality.

"Hey," I answered, sitting up on the bed properly. Though the use of beds was somewhat a joke in our family, we all owned one. All except Edward who, up until recently, had no official use for one. I liked beds, personally. Chairs were so upright and formal; hardly conducive for reading or other such...activities.

"Can we talk?" She danced carefully around the subject, testing the waters for my reaction. It was easy to forget that for Rosalie, life must have been all that more difficult as she had no perceivable gift that granted her intimate knowledge of one's inner self. With Edward and me, it was second nature to simply _know_, rather than enquire.

"Of course," I replied easily, swinging off the bed in one motion. She was dressed casually, even by my standards. An old t-shirt, tainted with the echoes of faded writing and Emmett's boxers was all she wore. Barefoot, hair trailing around her shoulders; this was Rosalie when she was at her best, in my opinion. This was when she was at her most approachable; her most relaxed.

"I need to apologise," she told me, quietly.

I tilted my head, questioningly. "You don't, at all."

"But I do," she went on. "Even if you don't need to hear it, I need to say it. So...I'm sorry. I really am sorry."

More than a little bemused now, I asked "Rose, you _know_ you don't need to say this. Everyone fights."

"Not you and I," she pointed out softly. "We never fight."

True. There was rarely, if ever, a situation we disagreed upon so strongly that we could bring ourselves to actually embrace conflict.

"I'm sorry too," I offered, because it seemed important to her that we follow some silly, human ritual in order to get back on track. "Really."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "So we're good then?"

I made an expressive gesture for her amusement. "You and me? _We're _good, I don't know about you and the rest of the world. Is that why you're here, to help me write your suicide note?"

Stunningly deadpan, she replied "Only if I wanted it to rhyme."

"Ah, I can hear it now..."

"-Jazz!"

"It's coming to me, your tragedy forming in lyrical prose!"

"This is not the best time to..."

_"Oh woe! Cruel life, I bid farewell! These flames that burn must be from Hell! I leave you now, flee from my guilt! In sorrows throes, my love shall wilt!"_

"I will end you..."

_"And Edward, dear foe, you must live on! Go forth and tell our love in song! For though you we were doomed, tragic lovers from the start! In death I pledge my un-beating heart!"_

"There will be consequences...."

_"Push on through the grief, t'wards the human you adore! Find comfort in the arms of _'that little wh...!_'"_

"AH-HEM!"

I stopped short, with a highly amused smirk on my face. "Shall I have Edward compose music to accompany it?"

Though her glare was icy and rigid, something beneath it sparkled; light dancing on icicles. "So eager to create your very own funeral song. How touching."

"I don't see you denying the accuracy of my cutting, yet lyrical interpretations."

She raised a slender eyebrow, passing me to sit on the rumpled bed. "Who can critique genius?" she mused, all of a sudden politely skimming through the book I had been reading. A small pause to indicate the change of subject she was about to hit me with. "Have you spoken to Emmett?"

"Rose," I warned her. "I refuse to act as a go-between for your marriage."

She snorted with laughter. "Hardly. I was simply enquiring..."

"I know what you're _simply enquiring_ about."

"You could at least tell me if he believes it." Her gaze levelled mine, overwhelming uncertainty polluting any chance of calm.

"Believes what, exactly?"

She looked me right in the eyes. "The lies I told."

For a long moment I contemplated withholding that reassurance as a form of punishment for such a thing. Lying to Emmett, deceiving him about the thing he cared for most...it was despicable. But them, who was I to judge? And really, what would hurt him more; truth or lies? Necessary evils, as always.

"He believed you," I said, gauging her reaction. Small amounts of relief trickled into her sour, contaminated sense of self but were halted immediately. She knew there was more to it than that. "But there are things you clearly haven't explained to him. Things he doesn't understand. Perhaps you should be talking to him, not me."

Why did I always have to be the agony aunt to this monstrous ensemble? Of all the members of this circle, why was it always me who had to listen to such things? Darkness reaching for darkness, maybe. The answer was obvious, of course. Because there was no-one else for her to talk to about it. In this little world – this world in ruins and flames – I was the only one who spoke the language they used. Who knew of the battles and the crimes, the pain and the treachery. The terrible, excruciating lack of a word to describe what they felt...I was the only one who could vaguely sympathise, whilst still being an outsider. I was the only one who had been touched by the same sort of darkness and bore the scars to prove it.

I groaned internally at my own bad luck.

"I have," she counteracted swiftly. "I was just checking. The little things can always be explained away easily enough, so long as faith remains."

True indeed, how many devotees of religion looked the other way at the ridiculously obvious flaws in their precious dogma? Was it not easier to believe the comforting lies, instead of searching for the cold, hurtful truths?

"Then why are you here?" I wanted her to ask Edward to verify such things, but his gift was different to mine. Thoughts and internal speech could be manipulated, feelings could not.

"To apologise," she offered, but I knew there was much more to it so I waited. She sighed. "And I need to know about Alice."

Ah. Of course.

"She saw nothing," I told her. "Though it's beyond my understanding at this point. Perhaps she's simply immune to your recklessness."

Something dark crossed those golden iris's, staining the brightness. "We can't understand why she didn't see anything, though. Are you sure she doesn't know anything and she's just keeping it from us?"

I sat down on the end of the bed, facing her directly. "Positive. If she knew, she'd say something." Alice was nothing if not forthright.

Rosalie seemed less than convinced. I knew I should leave it alone, but I asked anyway.

"What exactly should Alice have seen?" I asked, attempting to be careful with wording.

"Other than the obvious?" she asked, dryly. Despite the unexaggerated recklessness of what pushed them to breaking point, Alice had never come close to suspecting anything about their affair, especially not pertaining to sex. "No, we know she didn't see that," she dismissed, confirming my previous thoughts. "It was something else."

I waited, because in a few moments she would tell me, without me pressing her to.

Quietly, so quietly I could have misheard her, she said "We were...we both wanted to leave. Together."

I blinked, hoping she was going to elaborate. When she didn't, I managed to speak. "_What_?"

"It wasn't a conscious plan," she assured me. "We didn't even say it out loud. But yesterday we were talking and he admitted to me that he had been thinking about it. Well, so was I." She paused, gathering herself. It obviously cost her something to admit this to me, knowing that my opinion of her wasn't at its best. "Why didn't Alice see it? We were planning something that would have altered everything. How could she not see it?"

I wondered, vaguely confused, if she was actually serious? Did she really not know?

"Rose," I said gently, quashing the urge to take her hand in mine. "Isn't it obvious?"

She waited, face carefully blank. "Does it _seem_ obvious to me?"

I sighed, wishing there was someone else to tell her these things. It always fell to me, our closeness carrying with it invisible rules and stipulations. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the guilt that would inevitably ensue.

"Alice didn't see anything, because it was never going to happen. Thinking it is one thing, actually having the...whatever you'd need...to do that, is quite another. You were never going to leave Emmett. Edward would never leave Bella. Neither of you would ever leave the family. It was a non-event, despite your simultaneous musings." I spoke slower, hoping to penetrate the glassy, suddenly-young eyes. "She didn't see it, because it was never a possibility."

Instantly, her back went up. If there was one thing Rosalie didn't like, it was being told something wasn't a possibility. Being presented with such hopelessness only increased her determination to achieve or acquire the denied entity. I expected a cutting denial of my statement, but she was silent. I pressed on.

"You could never leave Emmett, Rose. That's why Alice didn't see it, that's why she never sees it, because no matter how badly you mess things up and how far you push one another, you'll always pull each other back and you'll always clean up the mess because you have to go home to Emmett and Edward back to Bella."

It was harsh and I knew that. I could hear the words, cold and unkind as they formed in my mouth. But she needed to hear it, she needed to know. It was tragic enough that she apparently hadn't known that until now.

"Alice only sees change," she whispered to herself, voice inflectionless and perfect. "She only sees things that will change what already exists. The way things were when she came to us. The way things are."

"The way they will always be."

One gentle dropping of her eyelids and I knew, without having to feel, that those shutters had come crashing down inside. I'd hurt her and she hadn't expected me to. She gathered herself with impressive speed and crushed down the grey, icy pain that began to thud dully through her.

"Of course," she said, as if I had stated the obvious, nothing more. "Of course, I know that. Of course."

But repetition of the words wasn't enough to convince me, though I wished it was. I hated this ingrained knowledge; this intimacy where none was requested or sanctioned. The truth was unavoidable. She didn't – _hadn't_ – known this at all. My heart broke a little; fresh new understanding of their insanity flooding to my mind and all the memories of times I had wanted to rip my own hair out in exasperation at their recklessness. It didn't make sense, it would _never_ make sense, but it just...made _more_ sense than it ever had. At least in my mind.

Her emotions, though undergoing vicious repression, were still detectable.

The simplest comparison might have been a diagonal of some terminal disease. Hope destroyed, replaced with cemented knowledge that drew it's stubborn strength from the word 'never'. Never was a big word to an immortal and I knew I'd used it more than once in the last minute, but it had to be done. Another necessary evil.

"I'm sorry," I offered, knowing it was pathetic and useless. I did not like hurting her, my sister in so many respects. We had endured much together, helped one another in ways that no beings should ever have to. She knew things about me that no other living being knew...things even Alice was ignorant of. But it was because I loved her – and I _did_ love her – that I had to say it. "I am."

She smiled and ran a hand through her hair dismissively. "No, it's fine. I knew as much anyway, it's just always better when someone else – someone with an ounce of sanity – says it for you. You're right. You're always right."

Devastated, confused and wearing her husband's underwear, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever beheld. Even as she fought to keep the overwhelming sadness from showing in her eyes, she was breathtaking.

I was unprepared for her sudden change of subject. "Will you be playing later?"

I tried and failed to make the necessary associations. "Sorry?"

"The game," she told me, as if we had been having a perfectly normal conversation not moments ago. "Baseball?" she added when I couldn't join the dots. "We're all playing later."

"Are we?" Alice had neglected to tell me this, but that meant nothing. She had been spending a lot of time with Edward and Bella lately. I knew better than to take offence; Alice went where she wanted, with whoever she wanted; she always had, always would. "Sounds good."

She nodded, playing absently with a piece of her hair. Her fingers were trembling with emotions she would not show, though she didn't need to. Edward had confided in me once, unnecessarily of course, that Rosalie had never been able to control her hands when she was really, truly upset. That one small thing about her remained human to the last; her strength and immorality could not remove that one visible weakness. "Bella will be here in about an hour or so. Esme's going to take photos."

I didn't know what to say to that so I just nodded, hoping that I was helping, knowing that I wasn't.

"Well," she said after a beat of silence, her hands falling instantly away from her hair as she realised that they were trembling. "I'd better get back to Emmett, I said I was only going to find a CD and he'll be waiting for me." She breathed a little slower, gaining composure. "See you at the game."

Rosalie didn't look back as she exited the room, a little too quickly to be anything but suspicious. I knew where she was going; to throw herself wholeheartedly into her husband, as much as possible. Lose the pain in his smiles and kisses, find solace in his arms and in the words he could undoubtedly smother her with. Replace sadness with love, find comfort and happiness in their union.

And though she had left, her sadness stayed with me for hours afterwards.

* * *

The jealousy was perhaps one of the worst things about it. More so than the inappropriate sexual desire that so frequently pounded through them both. More so than the hatred, than the longing, even the guilt. No, the jealousy was unbearable.

It took all my efforts not to allow resentment to build up against them both. I had to remember that it wasn't their fault they felt like this – that they were torn apart by such conflictions. A normal person's jealousy was nothing, really. A small irritation in the back of my mind. This was different.

It was white hot, blindingly bright and horribly prevalent. They didn't just get jealous, they were _possessed_ by it. They were consumed by the wrongness of the situation and it required massive, strenuous amounts of exertion to control it.

Edward loved Emmett, but he was prone to excruciating attacks of resentment from time to time. Rosalie was much, much worse. Jealousy was one of her worst attributes and she possessed next to no control over herself, except for externally.

It was clear from so many years of being subjected to their internal madness, that they were convinced (and no-one, myself included, would ever convince them otherwise) that they absolutely belonged to one another. Not even in an amorous, romantic way. No, it was darkly possessive, a primal instinct. She was his and he was hers. Though they maintained spectacular game faces and lived their lives flawlessly with the ones they loved, it was an undeniable dynamic of their involvement. His. Hers._ Mine. Mine. _As steady as a human heartbeat, rising with proximity and unfortunately...jealousy.

Edward clocked my reaction to the incident and he put a little more space between himself and Bella, though not in an obvious way. No-one else caught it; Emmett and Esme were ' warming up', which basically consisted of Esme throwing the ball as hard as she could and timing Emmett until he brought it back. Carlisle was talking to Rosalie about something that vaguely upset him, but I couldn't hear what it was. Edward and Bella were standing by the sidelines, very close together. Too close. He had been leaning down, staring into her eyes. Her poor little human heart had been doing cartwheels, her ability to breathe suffering severely. The desire coming from within her was strong but tolerable, not unlike a small child talking to itself for hours; irritating and _there_ but with the right amount of skill and concentration, easy to ignore. See, those were normal, human levels of emotion. Those I could cope with.

And then Rosalie's jealousy had hit me hard, right in the centre of my chest. Out of nowhere, this unbearable shockwave of nameless heat and fury hit me as hard as if I'd belly-flopped into the ocean from great heights. It knocked me for six, disorientating me for a few moments. The force behind it was staggering.

I heard Edward mutter to Bella that he was bad for her health as he stood away from her and she laughed dryly. I didn't care that he was lying, I was grateful that he wasn't out to prove some point. Rosalie was intensely volatile; her emotions were violent and brutal and nothing affected her so much as jealousy. The backlash was _literally_ painful to me.

"Almost," Esme said consolingly as Emmett skidded to a halt in front of her, making a rather large trench in the dirt as he did. "Edward's still a little faster."

Ordinarily, Edward would have commented on that. Made a teasing remark or some smug acceptance of his superiority. Wrestling would have ensued, laughing and...well, however pathetic it sounded...bonding.

Only he didn't. He pretended that he hadn't heard and instead kept his attention on Bella, while Rosalie and Carlisle walked towards the field, still deep in conversation.

"...hardly ignore the timing," Carlisle was saying, using the voice that was inaudible to humans. "This is your home, Rose. Please don't feel you have to leave just because of any...current difficulties."

"Whatever the reasons," she continued over his gentle pleas. "It doesn't change anything. We're leaving in a week or so." The jealousy radiated through her, contaminating me in the process. Edward was subjected to both our minds and he recoiled from being the cause of anyone's pain. Ironic.

"Africa?" Alice said with a small frown, her head tilted slightly as she was caught in the trance of seeing things shift and alter. "But that's miles away. I hate it when they go so far away."

"Emmett and Rosalie are leaving?" I double checked, loud enough that Edward could hear me, though Bella most certainly couldn't.

"Apparently," Carlisle sighed as he and Rosalie came to stand close to Alice and me. "Though not for any reason I can comprehend."

"It's not that significant, we'll only be gone for a few months at the most," Rosalie argued, guilt mingling with the jealousy now and I swore to myself that I would find a way to close myself off before I lost my mind completely. I was Jasper Hale damn it, _(Whitlock had died out years ago, thankfully – I'd been beyond eager to let that name perish)_ and Jasper Hale did not lose his mind.

"When are you leaving?" Carlisle asked, sounding almost like an authority figure.

"Tomorrow," Alice told everyone, rather sadly.

"That's a little soon, isn't it?" Carlisle said, but much quieter because Edward and Bella were coming over now to join us. "Can't we at least discuss it later?"

Rosalie shrugged. "Of course, but it won't alter anything."

"Hey guys," Bella said, still with a hint of anxiety. Everyone smiled and returned her greeting, well...Rosalie didn't smile and she said '_Hello'_ instead of '_Hi'_. "Edward says I'm still not allowed to play."

Edward laughed while Bella rubbed her hands together. It must have been cold for her. All her frail little bones and paper thin flesh exposed to such icy temperatures with nothing but those ridiculously dull clothes to keep her warm. "Bella," he said. Another inherited trait from Carlisle – a name where there should have been an endearment. "How could you possibly hope to keep up? Or even survive?"

"I could try," she replied with a little indignation but it was evident that she had no real intention of playing. She knew this was an important thing to us, an activity which signified family. She was making an effort to join us, to fit in a little more. It was actually rather endearing, even from a cynical point of view.

"I'm sure you'd be great Bella," Alice assured her with a smile. Which was pointless, by the way. What was the use of lying to the girl about something so blatantly obvious? I would never fully grasp Alice's sudden love for Bella, even if she could see the future; one in which they apparently as close as sisters.

"Yeah," Emmett put in with a grin. "If you were playing humans in a zero gravity dome."

Bella laughed good naturedly while Rosalie and Edward maintained their feelings about whatever she had just said to him in her mind. It was clouding over nicely, sufficient electricity building to create and sustain a storm long enough for us to play. The necessity of this game was heavy; we all needed to do something normal together and have it come out right.

"Well," Carlisle said. "Shall we begin?"

The game went well enough, but it was obviously due to considerable effort on everyone's part. The camaraderie wasn't exactly forced, but it wasn't natural. Much of the smiling and joking was for Bella's benefit and while it was clear that she was trying her best not to disturb something so necessary to us all as a unit, it was equally clear that she was failing. Having her there caused tension, even among those who loved her most. Esme and Alice were talking to her throughout the games, chatting pleasantly and explaining various little idiosyncrasies about playing techniques. Frequently, they would snap pictures of her with Edward, or alone or with one of us. Mostly this was done without her knowledge, as the camera had no flash and the click was probably inaudible to her poor, human ears.

But of everyone there, Bella was the only one who felt truly comfortable and that was only because we were all – even Rosalie – trying to keep it like that. Funny, how her happiness was so important to us all.

The game itself was interesting. Having been beaten last time, today Rosalie was quite unstoppable. Whether she was showing off for Bella's sake or not, her playing was second to none. She outran Edward three times, skidding into home base a good three or four seconds before the ball came anywhere near her. It was noticeable to everyone, Emmett especially who couldn't seem to stop himself from yelling suggestive encouragements, despite the fact that they were on opposing teams.

The fourth time this happened, I grew suspicious. This was where mind reading would have come in handy. Something was happening here, something... premeditated. If I didn't know better, I would have suspected that this was some pre-planned incident. It was almost like Edward was _letting _her win. But why? I knew Rosalie well enough to know that she would despise such pity, in any form. Nor would she allow it, if it's only gain were to make her feel better. No, that couldn't be it.

I looked over at Bella just as Rosalie breezed past her for the fourth time, sliding cleanly into a home run. "Safe," Esme said with a wink and smile. "Nicely done, Rose." Bella smiled too, though it was weak. Nervous, of course. She was terribly intimidated by Rosalie.

A thought occurred. Was that...? No. It couldn't be. Even they couldn't be concocting something like this just to keep Bella intimidated by Rosalie. What would be the point? Unless it was to keep things the way they were. Hadn't Rosalie mentioned something to me a while ago about Edward's inability to cope with two worlds colliding? I had been trying to tune most of it out at the time, as she was in one of her trademark 'Angst-Ahoy' moods. Maybe it wasn't as crazy as it sounded.

Rose handed me the bat and I stepped up. Alice hurled the ball at breakneck speed and I swung the bat hard, slicing through air. The impact was, as always, impressive. A convenient flash of lightning hit in the same few seconds before I dropped the bat and ran. While running, I was conscious of everyone around me. Emmett had paused mid game to shout something at Rosalie. Esme was chiding him for this, while Carlisle laughed. Alice watched me run with interest and Edward had sped off to find the ball. I timed and measured the distance and speed in my mind as I ran.

I made it all the way around just a split second before the ball slammed into Esme's gloved hand.

A split second too long. I hadn't hit the ball that hard and the calculated distance wasn't sufficient to explain his timing. He was playing slow on purpose, though not that slowly with me. Just enough to avoid suspicion that he was only playing slower for Rosalie.

"Safe," Bella announced, a touch more confidence in her odd little human voice.

Across the field, Edward pretended to be upset by his girlfriend's choice of loyalty. She smiled back at him and shrugged. "Just playing fair," she told him.

Playing fair. An undoubtedly unfamiliar concept to the first two Cullen children.

After that, things began to level out considerably. Edward had obviously caught my discernment as his playing improved markedly. Though Rosalie's performance remained nothing short of spectacular; Edward's return to the game didn't stop her from winning it for us.

Afterwards, Bella was consoling Edward by the Volvo. Their form of intimacy was strangely distanced. His fear of hurting her was genuine and it ran deep; he loved her, marvelled at her beautiful fragility. But he knew he could hurt her, in so many ways, and so he wasn't quite as close as he wanted to be. He held himself back. Unlike _some_.

Rose and Emmett were quite literally wrapped up in one another. Seeing his wife beat Edward so dramatically was obviously an aphrodisiac to Emmett, who had her pressed up against the Jeep in a way that made me fear for it's structure. They were lost in one another, kissing endlessly. Sounds were generating in their throats, bubbling out in giggles and gasps against their lips; sounds members of their family shouldn't have to hear, but we were all well used to by now.

The first time Bella had caught sight of it, she'd blushed. I knew this because I sensed the heat in her blood, the flush of her cheeks. The embarrassment had wound itself around the mouth-watering smell of the blood beneath her warm skin and I had looked away from Alice, mid-sentence. Edward had found my gaze and warned me off with one look. I raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to comment but that had been the end of that.

To the rest of us, Emmett and Rosalie's level of public intimacy was completely natural. It must have been strange for Bella, and of course – Edward. Though for Edward I guessed the word wouldn't be 'strange'. The English language was somewhat deficient when it came to describing them and their lunacy.

Bella let out a small, nervous little laugh. "Are they um, always like that?" At least she wasn't blushing.

Edward shrugged, oh so casual. "Yes, but they wouldn't usually be like this in front of you. I think Emmett is a little more than thrilled about Rosalie beating me."

"She doesn't usually kick your ass like that?"

"Usually I'm not as distracted as I was today. There was a rather attractive girl playing umpire, it was all very off-putting."

"Do you think...?" she trailed off, hesitation pulling the words back into her throat.

"Do I think what?" he prompted, fingers curling around hers. "Hmmm?"

"You think I could ever be like that?"

He stilled, blinking. "Like what?"

She made an impatient sound, knowing he was being slow on purpose.

"Like Rosalie, of course."

At that point, I genuinely felt sorry for Edward. Though it was all his own doing, though he deserved the guilt and the shame...the universe really never gave him a break.

He swallowed. "Why would you want that?"

"Oh gee, maybe because she's like the most amazingly beautiful person in the world! Maybe because she's strong and fast and knows _everything_ and...she can kick your ass and beat you in games and tease you about it and whatever." By the time she had finished, she sounded genuinely upset. "She's everything any guy could ever want."

Seriously, the universe must have had a personal vendetta against Edward Cullen.

He smiled and stroked her hair back, ruffled from the wind. "Not to me," he whispered.

I sighed, suddenly feeling a little sick. I hated their games; I hated all their stupid, pointless, useless destructive games. I hated my gift. I hated that I would have this gift _forever_.

"Rose, Emmett!" Carlisle called, as he closed the boot to his car. "Come on, we're going back to the house."

Lips never leaving his lover's, Emmet managed to wave a dismissive hand and say "Later."

Rosalie giggled and wrapped one leg around the back of Emmett's, scissoring him closer. He was whispering to her, God only knows what. Suddenly their inappropriate behaviour sent a spear of pain through my chest; second hand pain. I gritted my teeth against the sensations that were not my own.

_I _didn't have a problem with their public intimacy.

_I _wasn't the one who was sickeningly jealous.

_I_ wasn't the one dying inside.

Normal circumstances would have seen us leaving them there to their own devices and so might it have been, but for Rosalie's unexpected actions.

"Babe," she said gently, pulling back just enough to remove his determined lips from her own. " It's cold and wet and I want a bath."

Emmet growled playfully. "C'mon," he cajoled her, kissing her neck. "Give you a bath later, bubbles and all. I'll warm you up, let's stay."

Everyone was far enough away that this conversation wasn't reaching their lucky ears. Except me. Edward and Bella were with everyone else, but Edward didn't have to hear them to know what they were saying. Like me, his gift could sense father than his ears. I was closest to the, packing away the bases taking care to cover the trenches in the dirt where various players had slid into base, bringing up half the field with them.

Rosalie was taking a risk, saying no to Emmett so soon after what had happened. He could easily have interpreted it the wrong way and (quite rightly) assumed the reason why she wanted to wait until later was to spare Edward's sanity. But he didn't. He loved her, respected her far too much. He groaned playfully and gave up.

"Fine," he said, swinging himself into the front seat of the Jeep. "But you're in a lot of trouble later."

They were gone before everyone else, which was a notable relief to Edward and myself.

As we finished packing away, chatting to one another (mainly Bella), I vowed and declared that later I would speak to them both and put a stop to this madness once and for all. A vow that I knew was null and void before it had even been made, but still, something had to give.

And it was _not_ going to be _my_ sanity.

* * *

Mortal enemy of us all, time was being especially strange today. Ordinarily, it's attacks came in varied methods, applied differently to each of us. The slow, torturous moments that dragged along achingly – the boredom and excess of empty hours. It was as though time itself possessed a consciousness, knowing full well that we had robbed it of it's right to end our lives...so it compensated by making our lives hell. Elongating moments that should have been brief, filling our days and nights with incessant nothingness and little to fill the gaping void that was immortality.

It affected us all differently. Alice, for example, had no real concept of time. She required things like routine and sunlight to make her aware of the moments that passed. Her mind was arguably the least troubled by the cruelties of time. Emmett's boredom was difficult for him to cope with when his favourite activities were not available. Carlisle coped the best, having had the most experience and possessing the greatest patience, but even he felt the grating drag of hours passing like days. One massive, never ending span of time, never broken by sleep – never broken at all.

Today, however, was indeed strange. Hours passing like moments, half the day gone in what seemed like minutes. _Tempus Fugit_, indeed. Maybe it was because we were outdoors, occupied by something.

Whatever the reason, I was grateful. The last few months of my life had taken a distinct turn for the worst, all thanks to two individuals in particular and I was sick and tired of feeling like this – especially when it wasn't even my own feelings I was stricken with.

My anger, usually so well controlled, was eating away at my patience like an acid. The build-up of so many unwanted emotions, everything that had happened and the fact that I was secret keeper to it all...it was too much.

I wanted to talk to Carlisle, very much. It was rare that he and I would speak privately, but when it came to certain things sometimes he was the best person to turn to. His gentle understanding of so much was like a soothing, cool balm and it was something I desperately wanted. Only he was at the hospital just then, leaving us with an odd number.

So I had retreated outside, alone. Alice and Esme were developing pictures of Bella they had been taking sneakily all afternoon. Esme had her own dark room, as it was a hobby of hers to capture moments of happiness in our lives. Though I hadn't seen them since they arrived back at the house, I assumed Rosalie and Emmett were busy being 'alone' somewhere in the house, probably the bathroom if their earlier conversation was any indication, which would leave Bella and Edward together.

Sometimes, I preferred my own company, unsurprising considering the nature of my gift. But being alone had it's downsides, such as lack of distraction. Those that slowly drove me to my wits end, also served to keep that mind on them and little else.

Though I could still feel the anger, there was no being here to direct this at or even to concentrate on. While the anger was busy eating away at my patience, it's acidity also ate through other walls and barriers; things that helped keep me together. Now I was alone, really alone with nothing but myself and what might as well have been a mirror. I was suddenly so painfully conscious of my own presence, and I found myself missing the dramas and disturbances of others.

Old memories were hard on my heels without such rigid control to keep them in place. Dark, monstrous things that shook dust from their heads as they reared, teeth wide and gaping...coming down fast through the blackness and I knew they weren't monsters at all. They were the disguises I forced the memories into, so they would not frighten me. Because monsters couldn't hurt other monsters.

I felt vaguely invisible, lost in the night outside. I closed my eyes and tasted blood in my mouth. I could smell the whiskey, the scent lake water in the air...but I couldn't really. Memories were sly things, capable of far too much.

I was _not_ thirteen anymore and this memory, this sickly, poisonous memory...it should have died when I did.

There was no-one else outside to stop me from falling into it, and so I fell.

*

_-November 9__th__ 1856-_

_Thirteen years old, it didn't seem real. My father had told me I was a man now, that I had to start thinking about my future and my duty to my country. Men stood and fought, that's what he'd told me. Men didn't smile and charm their way through life. _

_The rifle was hardly brand new, but that's what made it novel, I supposed. One of those special hand-me-downs through families. His father's and his father's father and so on. The barrel was dented and scratched, an old bayonet fixture still visible, but the knife had been torn off. I wondered if those scratches had come from fingers, clawing at the barrel to remove it from their bodies. I hadn't asked my father, he wouldn't have liked that at all. _

_"Something's always coming around the corner," he'd told me, watching me as I surveyed the gift. "You need to be ready for it."_

_Of course, I'd heard the whispers of a civil war. People saying that something had to give, that something had to break. So really it wasn't any surprise when my father had given me a gun for my thirteenth birthday. _

_The celebrations had been convenient for my family, as it was the night of another boy's birthday. An older boy, who lived close to us. His family had invited us over to join them. My parents had been thrilled, as it saved them money. So we went and joined the other family and their far superior celebrations. I grew bored of the festivities and the music soon enough and went out to the porch and listened the hum of crickets and the total lack of wind. The darkness was intensely soothing, the stars oddly bright and the moon gazing down benevolently at me. _

_I'd thought myself alone, so I jumped at the voice so close to me. _

_"Beautiful," the older boy said. _

_"I guess," I answered, turning to see that it was the boy whose birthday I shared. "Why do you think it shines like that?"_

_"Huh?" he asked me, leaning on the porch beside me. He was vastly more attractive than I could ever hope to be. His black hair was longer than was the style, he had an easy smile and a way of leaning...an almost feline grace. _

_"The moon," I clarified. "Why does it shine like that?"_

_"Oh, well uh...I don't know. It's probably got this thing in the middle of it, all this light and fire and when it's dark you can see it, burning away up there like a lantern."_

_That didn't sound right to me even then, but I didn't want to be rude, especially not to my host. _

_"You want some?" he asked me, thrusting a glass of something under my nose. It smelled utterly repugnant; strong and noxious. But I nodded, not wanting to lose face. _

_It burned my chest, going down. I coughed helplessly and he laughed, patting my back. "That's there's whiskey," he informed me. "You get used to it."_

_My mouth felt like it was literally on fire, but I forced myself not to display such weakness again. I took another slug and managed not to cough. "So how old are you?" I asked. _

_"Sixteen. You?"_

_"Thirteen," I told him. _

_He laughed again. "Congratulations. Sure wish I could go back to bein' thirteen. Best years of my life."_

_I wanted to ask why, but refrained. Instead I asked, "What's your name?"_

_He smiled. "I've seen you before, around."_

_"I know," I said, feeling stupid. "But I don't remember your name."_

_"James," he told me. "You're Jasper."_

_I nodded, staring at the liquid in the glass as if it held the answers to everything. _

_"Y'know," he said, in an offhand way. "People talk about you."_

_I stiffened. "They do?" He took the glass from me. _

_"Yeah, they say there's something about you. Something....what's the word? Damn, I heard it only this mornin', what was it? Ah! That's it. Compelling. They say you're a compelling young boy. Did you know that?"_

_I shrugged, not knowing how to respond to a word I didn't understand. _

_"Well," he said, finishing the last of his drink. "I think I'd have to agree. There is something about you, even when you're quiet and out here all alone. Compelling, yeah. I'll go along with that."_

_He went to go inside, but stopped at the door. His eyes burned into mine, though it was probably the reflection of the moonlight. "You want another drink?" _

_*_

I swallowed, forcing myself back into the present. God, I was turning into one of _them_ – destroying myself with useless memories. My breath was coming ragged gasps, I was _furious_ at myself for letting it get even that far. What was _wrong with me?_

This had to stop. It had to end, right now. Their madness was bleeding into me, causing things to surface that should _never, never_ be allowed to surface.

I left the comfort of the night and that still benevolent moon to venture inside and speak to Rosalie and Edward. Though how was I to get them away from their partners, even get them in the same room together?

Pondering the difficulties of the task ahead, I stopped when I heard voices. I had just closed the back door, about to head through the kitchen and towards the living room, when I heard Emmett's laughter and to my surprise, Bella's voice.

"I guess you think it's pretty funny," she was saying.

Through his laughter, he managed to reply "Pretty funny? Bella, how can you possibly hang around with a bunch of vampires, but pass out when you see a drop of blood?"

I froze, wondering if I'd left the remains of my sanity in the yard. Were Emmett and Bella...alone? Talking together...alone? The world tipped a little off it's axis and I seriously questioned my own sanity.

"Hey," she said in mock seriousness. "It's a medical condition."

He made an effort to quell the laughter. "Hmm, yeah. Maybe that'll be your gift when he turns you. You'll be able to resist human blood." Even from the kitchen, I could sense her discomfort. "Or," he went on, determinedly cheerful. "Maybe you won't have a gift at all, like me and Rose."

She snorted with derisive laughter. "Yeah, that's Rosalie. Very ungifted."

"Well actually, she's a pretty great mechanic," he said. This made her laugh a little, he was surprisingly good at keeping her calm.

"What do you think they're talking about?" she asked him.

"Probably discussing ways in which to kill one another." She gulped, audibly and he reassured her instantly. "I'm kidding, totally kidding. They're... they're talking about Rose and me leaving."

Quietly, she said "Oh, yeah. I heard that. Is it...is it because of me?"

"Hey," he said softly. "No. Not at all. Look, I know you think you're messing things up or whatever, but really, you're not. Rose and me, we go away sometimes. It's nice to get away sometimes and be alone, I'm sure after today you can see why. Ours is the kind of marriage that needs a little space. And sound proofed walls."

"Oh Emmett, that is gross!" she wailed. "I don't want to hear about that!"

"Wait until it's you and Edward, man am I gonna enjoy teasing you about it!"

"About what?" she sounded alarmed. "Is there something...different for you guys?"

"Different as in vampires, or different as in Rose and me?"

"Vampires," she told him sternly. "What goes on between Rosalie and you is _your_ business."

"To be honest, I have no basis for comparison. But I think it's like all your passions and desires are just...multiplied. A lot. Sometimes I think that you humans can't feel what we feel, because if you did you'd never leave your houses or go to work or do anything other than stay with the one you love."

"That's not what Edward told me," she said, a trace of something undetectable marring the words.

"Well up until now, he wouldn't exactly know, would he?"

"Hey guy," I called, finally forcing my feet into moving. "Anyone?"

"In here!" Emmett called back. I entered the living room, seeing both Bella and Emmett sitting on the large sofa. The TV was on, but the sound was muted. Jerry Springer was in the background, discussing ridiculous themes and talking to cheating wives. Very briefly, I could picture us all sitting on the stage. What would the tag line read? _''Sleeping with my husband's brother...for the last eighty years!'_

"Hey," I greeted them both. "Where's Edward and Rosalie?"

Bella smiled at me, less nervous than before. "They went upstairs to talk," she answered me.

"Right," I said, trying not to let my blood boil at their stupidity. "Right."

Upstairs I listened hard, but everything was very quiet. A part of my mind was shaking it's head in disbelief that even they could not be _this_ reckless and irresponsible; right?

I sensed, rather than heard, that they were in Edward's room. I climbed more of the stairs, leading to where I found them. And thankfully, they were doing nothing but standing at opposite ends of the room.

They'd heard me coming, which was why they had stopped talking, but it was obvious they had been in the middle of a very important conversation.

"Jasper," Edward said, turning to face me. "We'll be down in just a minute."

"No!" I said sharply, holding up a hand to stop whatever they were about to say. "No, this has to be sorted out before I seriously lose my mind!"

Rosalie looked genuinely concerned, leaning against Edward's bookshelf. "Jazz," she said softly. "Are you...?"

"-I am about ten thousand miles away from being OK," I breathed in a voice that would only be audible to those very near to me. Even then, with immortal hearing, they would have to strain to properly hear. A precaution of course. Who knew if Bella and Emmett would decide to listen at the bottom of the stairs? I entered the room and closed the door behind me. "This has to end, right now."

"Jasper," Edward said, startled. "What's going on?"

"You two are literally driving me to insanity," I told them flatly. "Maybe you've forgotten that I'm party to all this _madness_, maybe it escaped your attention that I can feel every damned thing you feel! I can't take it any more, I really can't. I have my own demons to contend with and yours are tearing me apart. It's never been like this, never been this bad in all the years I've known you both. So...I'm sorry, I really am but Rose, you have to go away It's not that I don't love you, because I actually do. I'll miss you and Emmett, but I can't carry on like this. It's the only way this can play out and Edward if you're trying to convince her to stay then I will not be held responsible for my actions."

They both stared at me for three full seconds before blinking slowly and looking at one another, then back to me with regret and yes, I shuddered..._sympathy_.

"I'm sorry," Rosalie said, words heavy and low with genuine contrition. "You're right, it must be awful for you. Edward isn't trying to talk me out of going, so don't worry about that. Emmett and I are leaving in the morning."

"Oh," I said and felt instantly stupid for my little outburst. "Then why are you talking, alone...together? And why the hell are Bella and Emmett downstairs alone?"

"We needed to talk," Edward said, fighting to contain his own concern at the aforementioned state of affairs. "How are they getting along?"

"Fine, he's making her laugh," I told him, wishing that I could have held onto my worn away patience just a little longer. "So what were you talking about then?"

Rosalie sighed and Edward shifted. "Rosalie thinks it might be a good idea if the holiday wasn't just a holiday."

My unfortunate, frenetic mind wasn't so quick on the uptake. "Meaning?"

"I think," Rosalie interceded calmly, because Edward was obviously having issues saying it out loud. "That Emmett and I should stay away. Permanently."

"That's ridiculous," I replied straight away, not missing a beat. "What need is there for that? A few weeks, maybe a month and everything will calm itself down!"

They both smiled wryly. "Will it?" she asked me. "And then what will happen when the tension builds and next time Emmett doesn't just find out some tiny piece of the puzzle? What is the point of risking so much for something that can _never happen_?"

I heard my own words echoed in there somewhere, pieces of my own cruel-to-be-kind revelation. That was what this was about, it had to be.

"No," I said, struggling to find words fast enough. "I never meant that, Rose. Please don't take what I said and twist it around to meet the demands of your own guilt."

"Maybe it's the for best," Edward said quietly, staring at the floor. "For everyone."

Dispassionate logic screamed it's concurrence at me. It _was_ the best thing to do for everyone involved – unquestionably so. But I felt a stab of guilt, my _own_ guilt for once and the thought of never seeing Rosalie again hurt me in ways I was unprepared for.

"Carlisle and Esme would never allow it," I said instantly. "They'd be devastated."

"They'll have other things to focus on," Rosalie pointed out, not unkindly.

"Look, I didn't mean what I said," I tried as the guilt grew fiercer. Ironically, their own emotions were strongly in check for the first time in weeks. Of course. The universe was nothing without it's own impeccable sense of timing. "It's my own problems coming to the surface and sure you guys drive us all mad but that doesn't mean – for one second – that you should leave!"

She smiled, a little sadly. "But there's no point in staying, if this is all we can be to one another."

"You stay for your family! You stay and be strong for the ones who love you! Yes, I think you should leave for a while. Some distance and time to heal, absolutely! But this...this isn't the answer. Running away from something doesn't make it go away!"

They were both staring at me, and suddenly the situation had turned on it's head. Now it was _my_ own emotional issues causing trouble, not theirs. Dark things rising up to eat the moon, swallowing all the light and all the air...

This wasn't like me, I _never_ lost control like this. I was the quiet, withdrawn one who surveyed the madness of others and learned from it. I hated things like this, such feelings that ate me alive where I stood. Dark memories unbound, without the usual barrier to keep them in place...they unhinging me. I sounded and felt like a pathetic human; consumed by the product of an inability to let go of the past. Only it was more like the past refused to let go of me.

"Don't you see, Jasper?" Rosalie said, coming towards me now, intent upon comforting me. "It's better this way, so much better for everyone. We...we do nothing but hurt one another and it's starting to affect the people we love. You of all people know the definition of insanity. Something has to give. It's going to be me."

I tried to imagine life without them here. The first thing that struck me was the threat of silence. The house would be so quiet, painfully silent. Who would we roll our eyes at? Who would we pretend to ignore, who would we tease when they came down later on, giggling and dreamy eyed? Who would tell Edward when his hair looked ridiculous and when he was bordering on martyrdom?

Who would I turn to when I was at my worst? Whose eyes could I look into and know there was understanding – _real_ understanding - of every bad thing in my life? Who would make us all laugh with his jokes and playful nature?

The few months at a time when they tried to live away from us were bad enough, but this...the idea of permanence...it was bleak, to say the least.

"You can't leave," I said, too quietly to be anything but childish.

She smiled at me, more beautiful than I'd ever realised. "Why?"

And all the reasons – the hundreds of reasons in my mind – refused to translate to my mouth. I stayed numbly silent, stupidly so. She interpreted my silence far too quickly and though her smiled never dimmed, she caught Edward's eye and another – perhaps the last – flash of agony shot between them, catching my heart in the crossfire.

Bittersweet, as always; love and sadness and sorrow and utter, blinding...whatever it was. Though I was no mind reader, it was as clear to me as if they had written it upon each other's skin, burned there with the brutality of emotions that could never be allowed to reign.

Goodbye.

* * *

Be careful what you wish for.

That was all I needed really, for some wizened old Granny to look me right in the eye and state the obvious, far too late. Spouting some badly timed advice at me as if it hadn't already come back to bite me in the ass.

Be _careful _what you wish for.

Well this was it, all I had wanted; peace and quiet, sanity and reason. Everything I'd wished for in the last few months and now that I had it, irony was busily ripping chunks out of my soul in payment. Rosalie and Emmett were gone, for what seemed like good. Gone away from us to live in Africa for a while until they decided where to set up a more permanent residence.

The official story was quite something else. Rosalie didn't have the strength to actually tell Carlisle and Esme about their long term departure so she had resorted to a reliable secondary; lying. They were the only ones, along with a blissfully clueless Bella of course, who had no idea they were losing two of our family for what might have been a good, long stretch. Emmett and Rosalie had pleaded with Alice and me not to say anything to them. The nail in the proverbial coffin was that Alice had foreseen them leaving and knew of their intentions to stay away for much more than months. She'd been my last hope, really. If Alice didn't foresee it, then it wasn't a threat. But this she actually _had_ seen. More wonderful irony. She had agreed to keep quiet about it on condition that Rosalie and Emmett would come back here to tell Esme and Carlisle to their faces. Her intentions were clear in this; if they had to come back, it would be harder to leave again.

But Rosalie's resolve would be tough to crack, even given Carlisle's expected reaction, not to mention Esme's heartbreak. Her mind was made up completely; leaving was the only thing left to do.

The stupid thing about this was that she was completely right. If I had been in any state of mind other than the one I was in, I would have acknowledged this. The decision to leave, though heartrending, would solve most of the issues surrounding our family. Bella being the most obvious. Edward's happiness was clearly a factor in this and for all her spite and past cruelties towards him, it had never been clearer just how much she loved him. To me, at least. Emmett was also a part of the decision. The almost helpless betrayals were taking a toll on more than her conscience now and this was their best chance as a couple.

And hating it as I did, I also acknowledged my part in all this. She felt intensely guilty for what they had _both_ put me through. The unfairness of the situation from my perspective was clear to them both now.

There were other factors, but none so important. The bottom line remained that they were gone.

The house was as silent as I'd dreaded. Sometimes the mind exaggerates things; dire predictions and the likes often turn out to be less dismal than one might imagine. This, however, was not an example. This was a situation where everything was as bad as, if not worse than, what I feared.

Earlier, I had sat at the piano, an instrument that always remained a mystery to me, but I had felt oddly drawn to it then. Rosalie had played it many times; broken it once or twice I seemed to recall, as she lashed out her frustration and fury upon the beautiful instrument.

Who would play it now, besides Edward? He would come and sit where I was, composing more lullabies for Bella. His fingers would sweep over the keys and he would force himself not to think about _her_.

Christ. I had become _them_.

Why hadn't I realised before this, that without Rosalie to serve as a cautionary tale, I was just as susceptible – if not _more so _– to the darkness and depths as she was? She had always been that part of me, the side of me I could watch from a distance with fear and caution. And I had always been able to veer away from my own internal implosions as I was always too preoccupied with _theirs_.

Now everything was quite, peaceful and absolute hell. Why had I wanted this sticky, excruciating peace? It was nothing but silence and emptiness and _time_. God damned useless, endless time. There would be no fights, no arguments to rattle the household and rally everyone together to calm down Rosalie and warn off Edward from hitting a nerve. I had no-one to share stolen glances with when Bella would say something particularly dense or when Edward would wax poetic about how dangerous it was for them to be close. No secret smile, no darkly amused eyes to meet halfway across the room. No-one to share the darkness, split it with me and make some sort of half light.

The silence only made it easier for my mind to revert into a psychosis that had been deceptively close by for decades. Rosalie and Edward's madness had been sufficient distraction from everything that was waiting, just beneath the surface, to rip me pieces. I missed everything about them. I missed the screaming and the drama and everything in between.

And I wasn't the only one.

Alice missed them greatly. Though she spent a great deal more time with Bella and Edward, I knew that she missed her sister. Carlisle was not himself for the first few days (he never was when they left) and even then after returning to normal, he missed them so much that it was becoming a taste in my mouth. He was quieter, less prone to talking.

Esme was genuinely broken apart by it. I suspected that she knew more than she was letting on, because the depth of her anguish at their absence was practically fathomless. She made great strides in her efforts to take care of and be involved with the remaining members of her family, but it was clear that she was distraught.

Edward's reaction was not so straightforward. I had expected, quite frankly, for him to fall apart without her. They had become so tangled in one another, so utterly lost in each other that I couldn't understand how they could possibly function alone. But he did. He smiled and laughed, he kissed Bella and touched her fingers when she was talking. He was happy enough and it wasn't forced happiness, I could sense as much. Bella was a genuine thing of pleasure to him; being with her _actually did_ make him happy.

But when Bella left, when he was forced to come home to us and change clothes or whatever necessity demanded that he return, he was a changed man. The light that sustained him during the day was gone at night. Simply put, without Bella, the strain of things was horribly evident. It was like witnessing a bereavement too terrible to even deal with, so they ignored it. Shut it off, closed down the part of their mind that would alert them to the fact that half their soul had been ripped out. Without Bella, he was broken...but only I could see it. Wonderful.

The man dropped to the ground dead. I exhaled, spitting out the excess blood in my mouth and I swiped at my lips to remove remaining traces of the liquid. In the pale moonlight, his blood seemed black, heavily symbolic; the evil seeping out from him, staining the pavement. Another potential rapist, the taste of his evil had sharpened his blood with something vaguely acidic, leaving a bitter, but always satisfying taste.

I listened, waiting for sounds of discovery or detection. There were none. I had been careful. The young girl he had been following home had no idea what I had rescued her from and now she would never have to know. He had more than one knife in his pocket, more than one _instrument_ to utilise.

Rosalie would have approved of my actions, she would have made that clear. I could have taken comfort in reassuring myself that one of the reasons I did this was to please her. I could have pretended that my own reasons didn't even factor into such a pattern. _Her ghosts, _I could have told myself, _Not mine_.

But now, without her, I was just a monster standing in the dark. A monster who killed people like this because it fed more than a basic desire for blood; it sated more than a simply monstrous hunger. Without Rosalie as a shield, suddenly _I _was entirely visible. I felt naked, as though the world could see right through my diamond hard flesh and deep past the steel-like bones. All the way into that black, airless soul.

The moonlight wasn't so pale anymore, it was glaring. It could see right down into me, through all the evil and the murder; the calculated withdrawal from a life that involved my own emotions. It could was seeing everything, showing me everything. Odd, how much that moon had seen. It witnessed seen me do such terrible things, murders and worse. But it had seen me before all that, before that woman turned me into a monster to join her army. Before I'd learned how to smile like that, before there had been a necessity to smile like that.

Dead body at my feet, growing rapidly cooler, I closed my eyes and struggled for any remaining control to help me remember who I was and where I was and _when_ I was.

The memory, stale yet eagerly alive, came back in a flood. Like blowing a hole in a dam, the pressure of the thing was monstrous. It had been waiting there behind barriers and blockades ever since I'd learnt how to build them.

The moon had seen that thirteen year old boy and now so could I....

BUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZ.

I jumped so hard that I might actually have left my own skin. My eyes flew open, mind suddenly yanked painfully back from where it had been helplessly sliding. If I were human, I would have been sweating profusely. I reached inside my coat for the cell as it vibrated loudly. Carefully, I made my way away from the dead body and melted into the shadows as if I were one of them.

The name on the screen sent a wave of ill-advised hope through my itchy, blistering blood. Maybe it had all gone wrong, horribly wrong and now they were returning. With dramas and issues that would require everyone's attention, mine most of all.

"Hello?" I answered, sounding almost as desperate as I felt.

"Hey Jazz! How you doing, man?" For the first time in my existence, I felt disappointed that Emmett sounded so happy. Things were obvious not going wrong at all.

"Fine," I answered, tone deflated of any buoyancy it might have contained. "How's Africa?"

"It's amazing, you'll have to convince Mom and Dad to bring everyone out here for like a holiday or something! There's NO-ONE around, seriously! It's like this deserted area, right on the beach! I made Rosalie go swimming earlier! What? Yes I did! I did...I did _not _push you in, Rose! You fell!" Despite my own gloom and doom, I smiled at his two way conversation. Vaguely I could hear Rosalie in the background, arguing about Emmett's methods of getting her to go swimming.

"Whatever," he said, giving his attention back to me. "It was awesome. We stayed underwater for HOURS! There were SHARKS and everything! Obviously why the beach is deserted, closed off because of shark attacks and now no-one comes here or something, Rose had to translate for me but whatever...it's AMAZING!"

Emmett hadn't sounded this enthused in years. I was smiling along with him, almost able to see his huge grin even now, lost in darkness and shadows.

"So how is everyone?" he asked me, calming enough to remember that we all had lives as well. Sort of.

"Why don't you call them and ask?" I replied, not without affection. I noticed drying blood on the hand I was holding the phone with. I wiped it away on a wall, hard. I would remove further traces later, of course. I began to walk silently away even more, putting increasing amounts of space between me and the dead rapist.

"Well, uh..." Emmett dodged. "You know Rose. She wanted me to call you first and see how things were."

"Is she there?"

"Yeah, hang on. ROSE!"

I held the receiver away from my sensitive ears as he bellowed her name. I could hear a yell in return. Were they on opposite ends of Africa?

"He wants to talk to you...here, no he's alone I think. I don't know – ask him. Yes I'm going back in... yes I am! You can't stop me if you're on the phone! Later Jazz!"

There was a scuffle, then a faint 'Woo-Hoo!' followed by an almost undetectable crash of water. Emmett, running and jumping into the water I suspected.

"Hello?"

There was Rosalie. She, unlike her husband, did not sound so massively full of joy but then this was Rosalie; I hardly expected her to giggle down the line and burst into song.

"Hey Rose," I said, spotting my car a few hundred yards away. "How's things?"

"Oh, you know. My husband has been reduced to the mental age of nine and I think the sunlight is drying out my hair, but otherwise fine. How are you?"

I knew instantly that that was why I was getting the call first. That was why Carlisle or Esme weren't the ones she called first. She was concerned for me.

"I'm fine," I told her, spotting more blood on my boots. Damn it, those were nice boots. Italian leather. "Missing you."

"We've only been gone a week," she pointed out. "It's taken that long to get here." Of course, flying from one place to another when your skin shimmers like diamonds in the sunlight did cause problems. It meant taking a lot of short night flights from place to place, getting there gradually. Better than being confined on an eight hour flight with the sun streaming in on your face.

"Still," I sighed. "I miss you."

A snort of disbelieving laughter. "Why?"

"Because," I answered, opening the car door. "I've discovered that the way I maintained my own sanity was in bearing witness to your _in_sanity. Without you and your craziness, I'm coming undone pretty quickly. It's pathetic."

"Jazz, I'm...._yes_ honey, I can see you! Yes, that's great! You rule the oceans, babe! _Yes_, all the sharks bow to you! Sorry, Emmett has been in the water for about thirteen hours straight. Jasper, I thought...you said you couldn't take it anymore. You said you needed me to go, not that I wasn't going to anyway. What's happening there?"

The concern in her voice was agony. I missed my sister; however much harder she might have made my life before it became apparent that she'd been one of the stabilising forces in it.

"Honestly? I'm falling apart. Pretty funny, huh?" I felt like I could have cried there and then, sitting in my car talking to Rosalie while she was in Africa.

"Have you _hunted_?" She asked in such a way that I couldn't doubt the depth of her meaning.

"About four and half minutes ago. I'm in Port Angeles right now. Not helping."

"Is anything else happening? Are you and Alice OK?" I could practically hear her mind going through a checklist.

"Alice and I are fine, we're getting along as we always have done. Nothing is wrong except that I seem to be losing my mind."

She sighed, it rattled down the receiver. "Jasper, we've gone away before – for a lot longer than we've been away so far. Come on, it can't just be that."

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose She was right, as always. "Well then what is it?" I asked, more myself than her. "Things have been much quieter since you both left and that should be a good thing, but I can't help but feel it's not. There's something very _wrong_ with how I feel now and I can't help but automatically attribute it to you leaving."

"It's probably the stress of dealing with us and then the total absence of it. Isn't anyone leaping into the breach, trying to fill my shoes?"

I laughed, bitterly. "Oh yeah, Bella's giving us hell."

Silence. I regretted my words, but only long enough to realise that just talking to Rosalie and having to worry about her feelings and the delicate issue surrounding she and Edward had stopped the sick feeling from pulsing around my long stagnant system. She _was_ a distraction, it was undeniable...but why was this happening now? I was usually so in control of myself and now to be reduced to this shuddering pile of weakness...it was unacceptable.

She seemed to sense my vein of thought. "I suspect it's the fact that we've driven you a little bit crazy the last few months. Maybe our emotions were too much for you."

I shook my head feeling unaccountably sorry for myself. "No, it's not like that. The crazier things get, the further I retreat into myself."

More silence. Then she took a breath and quietly stated, "Maybe too far."

My eyes opened as something dawned upon me. She was right. I'd retreated too far into myself, owing to the craziness and the obscene weight of the emotions of others. I'd run to a place I should never run to, retreated inwardly forgetting all of what lay within.

"Jazz?" she prompted, because I hadn't spoken for a good ten seconds. "Jasper?"

I shook myself. "I'm here. Barely," I added with another snort of dry, mirthless laughter. "Christ, you're right. You're always right."

"Hardly."

"But that's exactly what it is, isn't it?" Even to my own ears, it sounded dry and thin. My throat was constricted. "I've gone too far into myself. Brought back things that were locked away. Jesus...and without you here to keep my emotions busy, to say the least, I'm all alone with it. Fantastic. Absolutely fucking_ fantastic_."

Perhaps it was a mark of the situation that she didn't admonish me for swearing. I knew she hated using extreme profanity, as did Edward. In all the time I'd known them both, they'd never used anything – to my knowledge – worse than a '_bitch'_ or a '_bastard'_. The only occasion that would call for such expletives were when they were fighting and they could inflict far greater injury with words, than with curses.

"I'm sorry," was all she said. "I really am."

I felt cold, a specific kind of cold I hadn't felt in since 1856. Her apology wasn't exactly meaningless, because I knew it wasn't, but it didn't touch me. The truth of the situation was blinding; shutting off everything except that which it was. I put my hand on the steering wheel because I had to grip something, I had to hold onto something to stop me from seeing what was staring me in the face.

"Jasper, please talk to me," she implored quietly. "Please-"

I closed the phone, cutting her off. It dropped to the floor, slipped right through my fingers and my stomach clenched sickeningly.

Charismatic, that's what they had called me. _Compelling_.

_Isn't Jasper Whitlock a compelling young boy? _

Not beautiful, not smart or striking, not brave or swift...nothing exceptional about any other aspect of myself other than that elusive description, ascribing to something I never fully understood until I was consciously striving for it.

Only the brightest of smiles could outshine the darkest of pasts.

*

-November 9th 1856-

_It was strange, the alcohol. No-one looked twice at the thirteen year old boy with a glass of whiskey in his hand, it wasn't an issue. In fact, had anyone noticed me they probably would have clapped me on the back, congratulating me on taking another step towards becoming a man. The party was focused elsewhere, as it was. Pretty much the entire town turned up to celebrate together, though exactly what they were celebrating soon became lost among them. Music and dancing took over and I stepped aside to watch it, quietly fascinated by everything. They all looked so happy; big stupid smiles and laughter, dancing together and emanating this kind of happiness that I never saw. _

_Some time after my fourth glass, I started to feel sick. A nasty, hot kind of sickness that washed over me in gentle, yet disorientating waves. My stomach felt queasy, my eyes had difficulty focusing on anything that was moving and my mind was swimming. _

_"Hey there," James said, taking the glass from my hand. "Maybe I should take that."_

_"No," I protested pointlessly, he had already taken it away at this point. "...'m fine," I slurred. _

_The older boy chuckled next to me, nudging me with an elbow. "Sure," he laughed. It was such an easy laugh. "Whatever you say."_

_My eyes scanned the large room, (so much bigger than anything we would ever afford) to find my parents. I thought maybe I could see my mother, dancing with Bethany Jackson's father. My own father was fast asleep on a chair in the corner. A fate I felt I would soon share if I didn't get some air. _

"_Gonna...get some air," I told James, nodding to myself as I turned to see which direction it was. "Need some...air."_

_I stumbled stupidly, obviously. But thankfully no-one was looking in my direction. Too much merriment in the hall to be bothered with who's birthday it was. I was grateful for this, my mother wouldn't be pleased if the town preacher (who was currently draped around Sarah Oakenridge – a young woman most notably NOT his wife) saw me drunk before midnight. The floor was moving, it had to be. Each time I tried to put my foot down, it slipped out of reach and my leg went down further than it should have. _

_"Alright, come on now." I felt a hand around my shoulder and another grip my underarm to support me. "Let's get you outside before you make a scene," James laughed. I protested, but not enough. He walked me outside, slowly and at a pace that didn't result in me landing squarely on my ass. _

_The cold air hit me in the face, like an icy splash of water. I breathed in deep, feeling a little better already though my stomach was not happy. I could see the moon, sitting patiently in the sky. I loved the moon, spent hours staring at it. _

_Suddenly, I felt tired. "Wanna go home," I mumbled. My lips were numb, words were coming slowly to me. All I wanted was to fall down on my bed until the world stopped spinning. _

_I knew I'd started to walk that direction, but for some reason James pulled the other way. "No," he said. "Let's go the lake. We can go swimming."_

_Swimming sounded like my idea of absolute hell. I hated the water anyway, couldn't even swim. "Too tired," I muttered, but he was still pulling me away from my home and my bed. _

_"The water will wake you up," he insisted. "C'mon, it'll be fun."_

_I went with him, though it was literally the last thing I wanted to do. The journey there seemed to take all of two minutes even though the lake was two miles away. The more I walked, the less drunk I felt. By the time we arrived at the glistening mass of water, I felt almost normal. _

_James's enthusiasm was horribly contagious. I despised the water, my father had flung me in this very lake when I was younger with the expectation that I would learn to swim out of the necessity to live. I hadn't swum, I'd sunk straight to the bottom and everything had gone black. When I awoke, my lungs hurt like they'd never hurt before and three of my ribs were cracked where my father had dragged me out of the water and literally beat my chest to get me to breathe. _

_Yet, I stripped off my clothes nonetheless. James was already in the water before I could work up the courage to put a toe in. The moon glistened over the shimmering, yet ominous surface. It was of little comfort to me, but a little was enough. My determination was rising steadily. I hated being afraid of things. _

_I threw myself into the icy cold water and all the breath was yanked from my lungs. The shock of the water made me yell and the fear wrapped around my throat like an invisible hand. But I refused to give into it. I kicked my legs, hard, and broke the surface. I took a huge breath and kept on kicking the water. I moved my arms, dragging myself forwards to where James was. _

_"See?" he was saying, treading water a few feet away from me. "Not so hard."_

_I was shivering, my bottom lip quivering along with the rest of my body. "W-w-w-why did I let y-you talking me into th-this?" I stuttered, trying to calm myself down and not think about the blackness all around me, waiting to swallow me up if I forget to kick. _

_""cos I'm your friend," he told me, as if it were common knowledge. "Friends do stuff together." He playfully splashed me in the face. _

_I blinked water out of my eyes, trying to see if he was being serious. I could tell he was, though I didn't know why. We weren't friends, the first time I'd spoken to him was that night. _

_I was about to put him right when all of a sudden he vanished under water. Panic hit me right in the chest, I felt frantically in front of me. I kicked harder, wondering if something had pulled him under. Maybe there were creatures in this lake, monsters..._

_Something yanked me under, hard. I didn't have time to take a breath – I just went beneath the surface. I fought and struggled, breathing out what little air I had left in a scream. The blackness was consuming, the fear was in my blood...I began to see spots when it let go of me and I floated to the surface. _

_Some survival instinct kicked in and my legs remembered their job. I took a huge breath and opened my eyes. James was laughing, breathlessly. _

_"Did I scare you?"_

_"N-no," I lied. I was shaking now, full on trembling and not only with the cold. _

_His expression softened a little. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to..."_

_"I should go," I interrupted. Though the darkness was horrible, it at least meant he couldn't see my face, red with shame. "My father will kill me if he knows I left the party."_

_I clawed at the water to try and get back to the shore (how had I even gotten this far out?) and I heard him behind me, apologising for the stupid prank. Once my feet found solid ground, I crawled forward, trying to regain some sense of equilibrium. He was talking, but I was still to ashamed to hear it properly. This was likely to be some normal activity between boys, something they did all the time – playing in the water, tricking and scaring each other. I couldn't even be brave enough for that. Pathetic. _

_Free of the icy water, I looked around in the dark for my clothes. The moon was hiding behind some clouds, most unhelpful. His hand on my wrist made me jump. _

_"Jasper," he said emphatically. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know you couldn't swim."_

_I flushed again. "I can. I just did."_

_He ignored my feeble lies. "I should have taken you home, I will right now it's just...you're so lovely."_

_I blinked, slowly and purposefully. I couldn't still be that drunk, could I? Hadn't the water woken me up at all? Or had he actually just said that me? _

_"Huh?"_

_"I mean," he fumbled, perhaps realising his how that had sounded. "You're compelling. Like everyone says."_

_"They don't know me," I said, still shivering. "No-one does."_

_I went to turn away from him, but he pulled me back. He was closer to me now and I became painfully aware that at this point, we were both naked. _

_"Exactly," he said to me, in a strangely feverish whisper. "No-one knows you, Jasper. You're a mystery, you're different. Like me."_

_Like Me. So much was encompassed in that, but I wasn't in the frame of mind to realise it. _

_"What do you mean?" I asked, even though every nerve in my body was screaming at me to leave. Walk away, turn away, run away..._

_"Different from them. That's why they call you compelling. Because they can't figure you out an' they never will! You're like me, aren't you?"_

_The last part was almost desperate and something cold formed at the base of my spine. I needed to go, nothing good was going to come of this. _

_But I didn't listen to my instincts. I didn't want to seem cowardly, infantile. I wanted to be brave. The sad thing was, I wanted him to like me. _

_"Different how?"_

_His fingers touched mine and I should have started running there and then. This wasn't right. But I was frozen, caught like a rabbit in a trap. He was much too close to me. I heard him swallow, his throat contracting and his Adam's apple bobbing. I could just about make out his dark grey outline. _

_"Like this," he said and kissed me. _

_The shock hit me hard. For a long time, far too long in retrospect, I didn't move. I couldn't react – there was no answer for how to react to this so I just froze. His lips against mine jarred every thought in my brain, sending everything to a juddering halt. _

_Until he put his hand on my hip. Then I woke up. _

_I yanked away hard but the alcohol was still in my system and swimming had drained me of all my strength. I tried pushing him with both hands. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded. In my mind it sounded strong and decisive – it came out weak and terrified. "What the...? Why did you...?"_

_"You're like me," he told me, grasping in the darkness for my hand. I snatched it away as if it would burn. "You're just like me." There was real desperation in his voice now and it terrified me. I looked around, but I couldn't see anything. No trees, no hills, no way out. The moon had forsaken me, all light had fled as if it couldn't bear to watch. _

_I should have yelled at him, made it clear. I should have hurt him, punched him...anything. But the panic was paralysing. My muscles seemed to be moving in slow motion, my mind only able to process one thought at a time. _

_He was talking, rambling really. "You're like me, Jasper. I've seen you, seen the way you look and the way you smile. No-one else smiles like you do, not even the girls. You have to be like me, I can't be alone. It has to be fate, we even have the same birthday almost!"_

_I wanted to be sick, I was so scared. Though I had no idea what his intentions might have been, something deep inside my hypothalamus stirred and fretted. It knew, as I didn't, what was going to happen. Superior strength and need and determination were going to win and I was going to lose. _

_He grabbed me by the shoulders, nose to nose. "You're like me, you're just scared, right? It's OK, you don't have to be scared. I'll help you, we can help each other."_

_I tried to move away, tried to run. He was so much stronger than me, I felt as though my bones were made of nothing but rotten twigs. At one point I managed to hit him, but he hit me back much harder. _

_The blow knocked me down, blood blossoming in my mouth. The pain, along with everything else, incapacitated me. He was there in every way it was possible to be so, right behind me. _

_My humanity failed me massively and something else took over. Or more accurately, it shut everything down. I was aware of hands on my body, places they should not be. I was aware of pain - frantic whispers and apologies pressed between my shoulder blades, planted there with kisses that threatened to turn my stomach. I was aware of a new pain, something that made me want to scream and wake up the whole world. I was aware of _everything_ but I did not feel it. Whatever it was that took over, it had me behind glass. Seeing and knowing but not feeling. One small mercy, if nothing else. _

_I knew I was crying because I tasted the crisp saltiness on my lips. My knees and hands were bleeding, the small sharp stones of the shore beneath me. The other pain was unlike anything I had ever imagined. But something was at least disconnected. I did not _feel_ it. _

_The pain lessened greatly, though it was of no comfort. I couldn't hear what he was saying, forehead pressed against my back, hands running through my hair. _

_When I didn't move or speak, he stilled. I felt hands on my neck, trailing over my lips and features. Then I could see his face. It shook me, threatened to break the glass. The guilt in his eyes and the concern spread across his flushed face. His lips had barely formed the words that would constitute an apology when I felt bile rising in my throat. _

_I was violently sick, my body wrenching and convulsing as the shudders wracked over me. When there was nothing left inside of me, I began to crawl numbly away, wanting only to find my clothes. There was nothing beyond that, no world to return to. I only wanted my clothes. _

_He dressed me. I let him because I couldn't do it myself and I just wanted to leave. He touched me unnecessarily as he did, little fleeting touches trying to get me to listen to what he was saying. His hands shook, doing up the buttons. He was rambling the entire time and I knew, had I listened to any of what he was saying, I would have been somewhat convinced of his reassuring lies. That boys _did_ do this all the time together. That it _was_ nothing, no big deal. That I _did_ enjoy it really, didn't I?_

_He walked me home. Once again, I let him because I couldn't find my own way back. Nothing in my brain seemed to work. He fell silent for the journey, but his guilt was deafening. I felt it, I heard it...it was all over me. _

_He left me once we were back in town, he left me without one single word. I stood, watching him leave. He didn't go near his house, instead he went in a different direction. He was headed towards the ravine, about half a mile east of there. I knew the ravine, I had been there before. _

_Broken, but horrifyingly numb, I went inside. _

_The rifle was oddly warm in my hands. I loaded it very calmly, grateful that I knew how to. My father's instruction had seemed boring at the time, useless almost. Not anymore. _

_Though I knew I had shot him dead, watched him fall into the ravine...I had no real memory of it. I recalled stowing the gun away back in my home. My journey to find him and kill him was not a part of my recollection. _

_I constructed my plan in my room later that morning, tending to my most obvious injuries. I would deny leaving with him, I would say that earlier in the night he told me of his plans to leave his family forever. I would smile and lie and no-one would suspect me. Who would, after all? I would compel them to believe me, wouldn't I? That was my gift, after all. _

_No, I would remain above suspicion and in a few months this would all be forgotten. __No-one would even notice anything unusual about Jasper Whitlock except that perhaps his smile was a little brighter from then on. _

_*_

I sat in the car for a long time, very much alone. I tasted tears on my lips, knew I was crying but couldn't stop myself. Everyone had secrets, didn't they? Everyone had a past.

Of everyone in the family I had come to love, I was without a doubt the one most susceptible to the lure of darkness.

Because I had been a part of it before I'd even met that woman in the alley, before I had tasted blood born of hunger. I had been touched and tainted by it before my death, before that venom had removed every trace of mortality from me.

My life after that night had been about finding a new existence; a new identity, a new way of living. Maybe a way of dying. The confederate army had liked me because I was brave to the point of reckless. Always hoping that one day it would be me lying there dying in the mud. It never was and my constant bravado about it had endeared me to everyone almost instantly. It didn't hurt that I was charming and yes, _compelling_ to lethal degree.

And then Maria had come along, offering death with that glittering smile, so like the moon over that lake. And I'd wanted it, badly.

But fate had other plans. It always did.

I wiped my eyes, taking a few controlling breaths. It wouldn't present too much of a challenge to cram that particular memory back in it's cage where it belonged – I had done so many times before.

The drive home was quiet, but my mind was racing with fractured schemes and plans to find a way to bring Rosalie and Emmett back. I knew now that without her to distract me, I would not be able to compose myself long enough to gain control over the poison within my own system. I needed her and her madness; necessary evils once again.

And I suspected, as I drove slowly back to the people I so loved, that the only way to bring her back here would involve Edward.

* * *

_A/N – I was really going to put a warning at the to of this because seriously – ANGST! But I decided against it in the end, because it's rated M for a reason and if the angst is shocking you at this point then you haven't been reading the other chapters closely enough. Anyway, it's also the longest chapter I've written in my entire life. 20'000 words and 53 pages. Wow. _

_OK, I'm struggling with what to say because I'm done in by my own angst. I know I promised this would be angst free, but I can offer no answers only to say that I will not promise things like that again because the universe obviously has it in for me. _

_A massive thank you to everyone who reviewed in the last few chapters, LSD especially. It's the best part of my day reading your reviews. I have to say I'm very nervous about this chapter, as it is darker than anything I've ever really written before, so if anyone wants to drop me a line please feel free. You know how I kneel at the alter of reviews. _

_Love and kisses to you all. _

_Bex_

_X x x x _


	35. Chapter 35: Asunder

**-Chapter Thirty Five: Asunder-**

*****

**-Part One-**

If it takes my whole life,  
I won't break, I won't bend.  
It will all be worth it,  
Worth it in the end.  
Cause I can only tell you what I know,  
That I need you in my life.  
When the stars have all gone out,  
You'll still be burning so bright.

Cast me gently into morning,  
For the night has been unkind.  
Take me to a place so holy,  
That I can wash this from my mind,  
The memory of choosing not to fight.'

_-Sarah McLachlan_

*

**-Carlisle-**

My cold fingers swept over the smooth surface of the desk with interest; I could still detect faint scribbling and scrawling beneath, engraved upon the polished wood. This was Rosalie's desk, one she had retained since she had come to be with us, almost seventy three years ago. Everywhere we had moved, this desk had accompanied her. Strange to some, I supposed. Why would Rosalie go to all the trouble of bringing this seemingly ordinary object along with us? It bore no perceivable significance; Rosalie didn't write, she didn't compose or involve herself in any form of creative literature. Yet the desk had accompanied us everywhere, since 1939 it had been moved from place to place.

To some it might have seemed odd, an almost obsessive habit indicative of her need for familiarity in a world that relentlessly changed; one piece of something constant, among endless streams of new, unfamiliar furniture. That would have been a reasonable explanation, perhaps even an accurate one, but it was lacking to full explain the motives behind the compulsion.

I could feel, beneath my fingertips, the words that had been carved, not written, into this wood. I could feel strings of words, entrenched into the mahogany with intent. I read it without looking; a simplified form of Braille.

Questions and answers, repeated and altered as time went on. Evidence of her existential dilemma, of her confusion and struggle with immortality. God, death, punishment and guilt...all scrawled over the otherwise perfect surface of the object. My fingers trailed downwards without hesitation; I knew what she had written beneath this. I had discovered this odd trait about Rosalie years ago.

Beneath the theological, existential queries, things were stated and not questioned. One name in particular frequented my fingers as they travelled.

_Edward_.

I sighed, pity and regret rushing through me. The complexities of that particular situation would never see the light of resolution, I feared. How could I have know what I was creating, what universally explosive elements I was combining when I had intended Rosalie for Edward?

The writing was ground deep into the wood now; trenches no pen could create. Perhaps a knife, or maybe her own diamond hard fingernails. The shape of her words were less controlled. Anger had bled into this, frustration and fury at her own treacherous emotions. I knew exactly _when_ she had carved this.

Beneath that, newer etchings. Fresher and shallower than their predecessors. A new name now; Emmett. Not stabbed into the wood with such force as the other, but written with more control and restraint. These were musings. She wondered at her worthiness of such a blessing. She confessed herself a murderer, a tainted broken thing who could only feel and see darkness.

I smiled to myself. My beautiful, determinedly dark daughter. So prone to guilt, depression and constant insecurity. Like so many humans of her pretended age.

Further beneath that were cold, factual statements of the things she could never have and would learn to accept that she could never have. Disjointed words and fragments of speech alluded to the baby she would never produce, never raise, never love. No outlet for that part of her that yearned to be a mother.

Blame and anger and guilt formed the words beneath that. Another name, much less frequently used that the other two; King. Though there was an obvious chronological outline to all this, his name came up at random times, revealing the frequency with which he haunted her, despite what century she was in.

Rosalie, the closed book of the family, had spilled herself into this piece of furniture openly and honestly; invisible confessions and acknowledgements obvious to no-one except by touch. The desk went wherever she went, without challenge or question. It was of great importance to her, for reasons that were only obvious to myself as far as I knew. She used it for various things; cosmetics, clothes, books. But beneath the everyday facade, there she was; open and honest and full of despair.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and drew my fingers from their reading. In not allowing Rosalie to die, I knew I had made a mistake. My own sense of love and sympathy had given her unwanted immortality that, as Edward had so often pointed out, she was clearly too unstable to cope with. But she had striven through that, through her own darkness and of that inflicted upon her without summons. My greatest mistake was my greatest triumph. The strongest of us all.

I looked around at the room with sadness. All her belongings were here, gathering minute amounts of dust. Books, shoes, music, beautiful little idiosyncrasies she had collected over the years; it was all here, while she was not.

The desk should have been a comfort, but it was not. The holiday pretence would not last much longer and I dreaded the day when she would send for her belongings, the desk among them. Despite the comforting lies of Jasper and Edward, even Alice's smiles and obvious deceptions concerning her gift, I knew that Rosalie and Emmett had no intention of returning to us.

"Carlisle!" Esme called up the stairs. "Darling, Bella's here!"

I sighed, trying to rid myself of the weight born of missing my daughter, not to mention Emmett. The house's silence was heavy and hard to break, but then it was always easier when Bella was here. Edward's contribution towards the problem, I supposed.

"Coming," I replied, taking a last look at the desk. The carvings were invisible even to my eyes, but they were there. Little traces of Rosalie left there, regardless of her absence. Traces that would be gone when she took it with her to their new home.

I resolved to speak to my son later that night, because of all the truths I had encountered in my life, this was one of the most unswerving; if there was a way to bring Rosalie and Emmett back, it would certainly involve Edward.

* * *

**-Part Two-**

'_There's a dream I can see,  
__I pray it can be.  
__Look across this land, shake this land,  
__A wish or a command.  
__A dream that I see,  
__Don't kill it, it's free.  
__You're just a man you get what you can.  
__We all do what we can,  
__So we can do just one more thing.  
__We can all be free,  
__Maybe not with words,  
__Maybe not with a look,  
__But with your mind.'_

_  
__-Cat Power_

*****

**-Alice-**

Humans.

Messy, ridiculous humans. See them eating their food, biting into things and consuming them greedily, hoarding what does not need to be hoarded. See how they destroy and make messes where none were necessary. See how they run and scamper about through their lives like little mice, terrified and eager. Producing at the rate of rats, smothering the planet and repopulating themselves; they were rodents indeed. Sitting inside the houses they hide in, watching the blue flickering screens portraying people who pretend to live life. Eating and sleeping and mating, destroying all chances of peace and wasting the money they work so hard to get. This stupid, ignorant waste of a species somehow maintained the title of dominance over this planet.

But then, they weren't just stupid rats scurrying about in their own filth. They were innately beautiful as well. Something about their mistakes and messes that made them infinitely lovely, despite their terrible shortcomings. The silliness of everything they did, owing to the sheer lack of time they had left to live, endeared them to me. They fell down, they lost their way and everything they worked so hard for could all be gone with a single careless word, and in the end, it was that fact about them that I loved. That tragedy was just in their blood. They were doomed to live these strange lives and then die without resolving anything and to me nothing was more beautiful. Each day could be their last, nothing was certain; nothing was safe. Everything was in jeopardy, they risked everything just by stepping outside their brick walls each day but they did it and returned each night to sleep and dream and rest.

Sometimes I missed that. Though I was well aware it was impossible to miss what you could not recall, I knew that at some point in my existence before I had become this, I had experienced such emotions. I knew that my life had been fleeting and difficult; brimming with trials and tribulations. Some small part of me missed that. Envied those humans, as they rushed around trying not to die before they had ticked off various things from an oddly delayed bucket list.

Watching Bella as she ate was an odd sensation. Several things were at the forefront of my mind as I listened to her happily prattling on. Firstly, I was vaguely repulsed by the fact that she was eating (albeit it with decorum). Watching her chew and taste and swallow...it was like watching a child eat worms. Secondly, there was the smell. Mingled with the food, was her blood. Pumping faster and thicker because of the consumption, it was freshly obvious to me once more just how good she would taste.

Thirdly, I was being subjected to fragments of a future I did not wish to see.

It was futile to try not to see it. I'd learned decades ago that if I wish to stay sane, I would have to accept my gift. But it didn't mean I relished what I saw.

Which, by the way, was more than anyone would ever guess.

Just then, as Bella continued to regale me with stories about her mother, I saw packages and delivery vans. I saw things being taken from the house; things that belonged to Rosalie and Emmett. I saw letters and phone calls, arguments and a new address. I saw Esme crying and Carlisle doing everything not to. I saw Jasper struggling to accept how much harder things were for him without Rosalie. I saw Edward's total lack of reaction, far more obvious than if he'd just admitted that it broke him to pieces. I saw my sister hundreds of miles away and it hurt me.

Bella, of course, would suffer no real agonies at the loss. Her sudden talkative nature had been brought on by Rosalie's absence; a sudden bout of confidence without having to worry about stepping on Rosalie's shadow when she was here with us.

But our family wasn't as it should be. Their absence made that painfully clear, and though I did genuinely love Bella, her presence was sufficient only to distract us from that rather than repair it.

I sighed, thrown off by the stupid messes we found ourselves in, so similar to those of humans. Love; the universal destroyer of any and all logic.

Bella looked up from her spinach ricotta, concern evident. A frequent emotion for her, really. She spent most of her time being worried about something.

"Is this bothering you?" she asked, indicating to the bowl of 'food'.

"It's better we all get used to it," I told her kindly. "Plus, we see kids eating in the cafeteria all the time."

She nodded and went back to eating. I couldn't help but catalogue her movements, clumsy and lacking foresight. So very human, so graceless and inelegant, but that was why it was so fascinating. The fork to her mouth, chew – swallow – repeat. Simple enough, surely? But no. She got sauce around her lips, she dropped bits of spinach, she selected uneven amounts per forkful. She failed to gauge four times when it was too hot and scalded her tongue several times as result. I was staring, but it didn't seem unwelcome.

"So, any news from Africa?" she asked, after a few moments of trying to decide how to phrase it. I smiled at her, really she was so sweet. She would have been quite happy never to hear from Rosalie again, but she was asking anyway. It seemed that a tendency to self sacrifice in this relationship wasn't one sided.

"They're having a lovely time," I answered neutrally. It wasn't fair to involve her in such things, not when her propensity to blame herself almost matched Edward's.

She twirled a long piece of the green, stringy goo around her fork. "Are they...do you know when...?"

"They'll be away for a while yet," I told her, keeping in mind that she meant no harm; that she loved Edward, all of us. "So you can relax."

Hey eyes widened, a flush creeping up her throat. I studiously ignored it.

"Oh, I – I – I didn't mean to...I was just..." she stammered, uncomfortably at being caught out. "I'm sorry."

I smiled and winked. "Don't be ridiculous, Bella. If you keep apologising so much, you'll turn into Edward. Speaking of which, how's the impasse?"

Now she vaguely resembled a sulky teenager. "He won't budge. Keeps throwing around words like 'priceless mortality' and 'irredeemable soul'. It's so annoying."

I couldn't contain the small smirk. "Yes, boyfriends can be really dense about making you immortal, can't they?"

She gave me a wry look, before a grudging smile broke out. "Yeah well, I hope the whole thing is resolved before my birthday."

Clearly she thought she'd said the wrong word in there somewhere, because she winced and looked at me with apprehension. Oh yes, her birthday. She was afraid I would commence with my feverish plans for parties and extravagant gifts. Instead, I felt a question bubbling up inside and need to know it. Her birthday could wait, this would not.

I didn't know how to keep something bottled inside, so I asked her.

"How can you be so willing to give up your life for him, Bella?" She jolted, caught by my unexpected enquiry. "I know you love him, but you've known him for such a small amount of time. How can you be so sure?"

I knew categorically that Edward would have forbidden me asking such things. No-one else would have asked her this, well admittedly Rosalie might have, but the phrasing would have differed.

She swallowed, blinking and sifting through my questions. "I...huh?"

Of course she was surprised, I had never questioned anything about her and Edward before; certainty was my ally, the future bending low to whisper secrets in my ears and display them before my eyes. But I needed to know more than the impending future, I needed to know _why_.

"You know how much I adore you Bella, genuinely. But you're only seventeen. You've known Edward for months, barely. How can you be so certain of your feelings for him?"

She looked away from me, her sensibilities injured. I waited, needing to know. So much change, so much sacrifice...I had to know more about the cause behind it.

"I can't...there's no way to explain it." Again, I waited. It was customary of humans, I had observed, to open with a disclaimer as such, to free them of any responsibility should the attempted explanation be either embarrassing or feeble. "I just _know_. I feel it, deep inside of me. It's too much for me, too much to take or say or explain. I can't handle it sometimes, it feels like it's gonna explode out of my chest. I love him like I never knew what love was before. We have to walk the same path; I can't go back now I've felt this. It's like I've been blind my whole life and now I can see. But if someone tried to take that away, it would be worse than never having seen anything at all."

So many clichés, so many little flaws in her bravery and love. But essentially, it was what I needed to know. I'd watched her very closely the whole time, gauging reactions. Something I'd picked up from Jasper, no doubt.

It gave me no pleasure to double check that it really _was_ worth all this, but I was at least relieved to be reminded of such reasons.

I'd heard Edward's approach a while back, but couldn't interrupt her. I simply smiled at her as he walked through the door, all smiles and cheer.

"Hello ladies," he greeted with flawless charm. I frowned, hearing Bella's heartbeat skip a few times. I knew humans were fragile, but she was horrendously more so. "Are you ready, Bella?" It was getting late, especially for the school-attending human girl whose father was Chief of Police.

They left together and I cleaned up the bowl. I wondered at the odd dynamic of their relationship. Aside from the obvious elements, I tried to imagine how they operated. Would she know something was wrong and question him about until he cracked? Would she leave him to his sadness, unsure of her place in such a delicate part of his life? Would she even notice?

I shook my head, rinsing the bowl under the warm tap. It was useless to us, and I could easily have thrown it away, but the oxygenated water was soothing against my fingers, the sounds rushing gently. I loved white noise.

I could easily have turned my vision onto them; used my gift to see how it would play out, but I didn't. I always strove to give my family privacy in these matters and focus on things that would change the structure of out lives. Danger, discovery etc...

The sauce residue was unpleasant and I let the water run a while after the bowl was clean, hoping it would wash away the smell.

I wanted Jasper with me, he would soothe the nagging worries in the back of my mind with his presence alone, nothing to do with his gift. But he was speaking with Carlisle, discussing things of a private nature which I respected. Jasper, my beloved wonderful Jasper, was a man of many aspects. One of which was prone to darkness. They were his own words, as I recalled. Two days after we had first kissed, he'd said those words to me.

"_I'm not a good person, Alice," _he had warned me, fingers loosely stroking my own. _"Even for one of our kind, I'm especially prone to darkness."_

As if I'd cared or worried. He was Jasper, all I could ever want. So he had his secrets, his darker moments...it didn't alter a thing and I did my best to respect his privacy and focus my gift elsewhere.

More time, more hours that slipped by with a strange fluidity. A glance at a clock would have told me 3:47am, but I didn't. Time meant little to me. I had decided to sketch for a while; another soothing activity. Somewhere around that time, Edward joined me. He was not in a good mood. That much was obvious, but I left him to it, content to sketch and lose myself in the contrast, the shapes and the depth of shadows.

He was skimming through a book, a good fallback for when he was pensive and melancholy. Companionable silence, maybe. He was practically motionless; his eyes flowing over the words, drinking in the distraction with eager attention.

Which was when it occurred to me. It came out of nowhere, really; like a good idea. And because I was Alice, I didn't think before I said it out loud.

"You love her."

He looked up from the book, a small crease between his perfect eyes. He spoke slowly, as if I was being purposefully unintelligent.

"Well, of course I..."

I shook my head, scratching my nose with the piece of charcoal. Jasper would laugh later at the state of my face.

"Not Bella. Rosalie. You love her."

A few seconds of total non-reaction before he blinked, languidly and shrugged. All grace and indifference, all completely fake. He went back to the book as if my statement wasn't even worth his full attention. "So do you."

"It's different," I told him, unable to fully comprehend where this was coming from. My mouth was always a little bit ahead of my mind. "She's gone away because of you. And you love her. You always have."

Fractured, cornered. Edward couldn't properly cope with things like this; sudden, disorientating loss of control. Just like Rosalie. Very quietly, looking at the space to my right, he asked "What is this?"

"When was the last time you told Rosalie you loved her?"

He dragged his eyes away from the space beside me and turned a page, deliberately shaping his face into dispassion. "Pardon?"

"When was the last time you told Rosalie that you loved her, Edward? Have you ever told her?"

The Adam's Apple bobbed dangerously, his jaw worked. "Alice..."

"Maybe if you did, maybe if you called her and told her that, they'd come back. She loves you, Edward. I know it's hard to see, but deep down she does. Did you even ask them not to leave? I know you miss Emmett, but you miss her too...don't look away from me! You know I'm right. Why won't you speak to her on the phone?"

His eyes flickered to the space away from me, as if he wanted nothing more than to avoid eye contact with me. "They called yesterday, I spoke..."

"-To Emmett," I quickly interjected. "Why won't you speak to Rose?"

He flicked another page, hard enough to tear it. I could almost hear his teeth grinding. "What good will it do?" he muttered. "Anyway, things are better now. No more madness, no more screaming matches and _'family discussions'_."

"At what cost?"

Those eyes met mine, _properly_ for the first time in days. A small bolt of electricity went through me, a thrill of something detecting the danger deep in those darkening irises. "Bella is..."

"Bella," I cut across. "Is wonderful and we all love her, but she can't replace them. Three little words, Edward. How hard it is, really?"

Something passed over his face, so fast it was like a flash of light. I saw such confliction then that it turned my heart in my chest. It was gone, he closed the book with a 'SNAP!' and walked out, leaving my question verbally unanswered, but I had my answer nonetheless.

I sighed, rubbing my eyes.

The Rosalie-Edward issue had always been a tremendous source of irritation to me. Upon first coming to know them, I had assumed – with everyone else – that their animosity was born of arrogance and natural dislike. They were quite similar; vanity, self loathing, conceit, overly intelligent. I knew they had been intended for one another at first and could see easily how this had done little but cement their dislike for one another. Edward hated to be handed anything and would instantly have rejected Carlisle's misguided, albeit kind suggestion of companionship. Rosalie would instantly have despised Edward for this rejection and misinterpretation would have the rest. The whole thing was doomed from day one.

Or so it seemed.

But thirty years of living with them, of coming to love and know them individually brought me closer to the truth.

Their similarities ran deeper than simple personality traits. They were alike in a strangely basic way; as if made from the same mould. Something about them was just _the same_. Though Jasper and Rosalie were known as the twins, I often felt this to be inaccurate. Sometimes small moments gave them away; little arguments, big arguments, screaming at one another...but then they would look away and I could see it. They were _exactly _the same. They wore different skins and bodies, spoke differently and made very dissimilar proclamations. But deep down, they were frightening similar. Like one object spit in half and the two parts had been disguised cleverly. Weathered and misshapen, but essentially still matching.

Even this could be explained away easily (familiarity breeding contempt, etc...) but for other little lapses in an otherwise flawless facade.

Edward cared about Rosalie. How else could they fight so much?

In my opinion, the opposite of love wasn't hatred; it was apathy; indifference. If this was true, then it was blindingly obvious that the decades of acrimony between Rosalie and Edward made no sense whatsoever. Their attitude towards one another was anything but apathetic. The arguments between them were of monumental significance; they struck with words, as if to physically cleave the other. They _knew_ how to hurt each other; they wanted and always succeeded in hurting one another. But if they really didn't care, then why bother? Anyone who had witnessed them screaming at one another would never even think to use the word apathy.

Because, of course, they _did_ care. They cared a lot, but both were probably terrified of what would happen if they were to admit it. I had to agree there; the idea of them becoming romantically involved (while repugnant because it was almost incestuous) was literally terrifying. A reverse ideology of atom splitting. The two of them together, such similar, lethal beings...it would have been disastrous to all involved. They would probably have killed one another.

Still, that didn't mean that they didn't love one another. Even on a very simple wavelength, an acknowledgement of the sibling relationship that was denied because they were too wary of the other. I knew Rosalie loved him, her concern over the _Bella Issue_ was evidence of such. She cared about what happened to him, even if she worked not to show it. And Edward – despite all his bravado – he cared about her as well. He needed her too. Sometimes only Rosalie was brave enough (or crazy enough) to demand that he get down from his tower and act his age. He would also tell her when she was being utterly irrational, unfair, spiteful. She would pretend not to listen, but it would stop soon after that.

They had a way of bursting each other's bubbles that Emmett and Bella could never learn.

And now Rose and Emmett were gone and Edward was not coping. He would die before admitting it, but it was evident. This family needed to be whole to function; to have balance. We needed Rosalie's moodiness and haughtiness. Emmett's light-hearted nature and affectionate rivalry with his brothers.

I abandoned my sketch. My mind was solidly elsewhere now.

Clearly this was going to be an issue. And though my meddling skills were tremendous, I suspected that this particular problem had a singular solution.

One that would clearly involve Edward.

* * *

**-Part Three-**

'_Deliver me, out of my sadness.  
Deliver me, from all of the madness.  
Deliver me, courage to guide me.  
Deliver me, strength from inside me.  
All of my life I've been in hiding.  
Wishing there was someone just like you.  
Now that you're here, now that I've found you,  
I know that you're the one to pull me through.'_

_-Sarah Brightman._

*

**-Esme-**

Though the storm had yet to fully break, I knew it was building. Pressure and tension and all that electricity; the very air groaned with the weight of it. Soon it would darken, clouds would form and then finally, the skies would clash and bleed.

Ordinarily, I was not susceptible to such prose – I would leave that to my beautiful, if deeply theatrical children - but the occasion called for it.

Both symbolic and real, a storm was building. It was a mere question of time before it exploded over us.

The slippery, raw clay was intensely soothing as it spun itself past my fingers. The cool feel of it and the constant spherical rhythm of it as it spun itself, moulded by my hands; pottery throwing was one of my favourite pastimes. I hadn't yet decided upon the shape I wished to create, I was simply content to feel the cold, wet clay beneath my hands while I waited patiently for my son to speak.

He had been sitting there for an least half an hour now, watching the blob of clay as it started to take form. The thirty minutes had been spent in silence, but there was no awkwardness. He would speak when he was ready; how could we be awkward around each other after ninety years of constant, almost unbroken contact? My first son, well...almost.

I moved my thumb upwards with delicate precision, creating swirls in the clay. My mind prickled over the small, dead baby that I had held for such a small amount of time. The only thing my body had ever produced, ever would or could...that tiny, little blue thing. Sadness welled in me, but it was an old sensation that I had long ago learned to control and put into perspective. Dwelling on such things was absolutely detrimental.

A sentiment I had always wished to impart to Rosalie, never with any success.

He moved minutely, helpless audience to my thoughts. We made eye contact for the first time since he'd first sat down in the dark, warm basement room. I knew instantly why he was here and, sensing my acknowledgement of such, he took a breath to speak to me with.

"Why did you intend me for Rosalie?"

I smiled and looked down at the clay, maintaining it's shape and posture. "Why do _you_ think we intended her for you?"

He looked a little to the left. "Because you thought I was lonely."

"That's all?"

"No," he said, quieter, avoiding my gaze. "Because we were both beautiful and alone and the same age."

My poor Edward, such confusion all these years later.

"I admit, those reasons were all valid. They were not, however, the _only_ reasons why we thought you should be together."

He swallowed tightly, still unable to look me in the eye. "Why else, then?"

"Edward," I said, drawing his eyes unwillingly back to mine. "Why does it matter? It's not your fault they've gone away, darling. It's sad, but we know they like to live away from us sometimes. That's not your doing."

"I know," he replied, quickly. "It was just something Alice said to me...it made me think that maybe I've been too hard on her."

He was openly searching for forgiveness, the Edward Cullen equivalent of pleading with me to tell him it wasn't his fault. So many years of existence; having intimate knowledge of death and murder, darkness and all forms of existential struggle...he was still so much a child sometimes. So small and uncertain of the world around him. I wondered if perhaps that was my fault for continuing the role of '_Mother'_ for too long.

"Hard on Rosalie?" I echoed. "Honey, I think you're presupposing an alternate universe in which Rosalie is a wilting, delicate little flower. She gives as good as she gets when it comes to you, we all know that."

For some reason my words, born of good intentions, seemed to cause him more pain. There were vast shadows under his eyes, bathing them in purple half moons. He should hunt and the instinct to instruct him to do so was strong, but I held it back, knowing he did not need to be nagged just then. I altered the clay again, a thick figure eight shape this time, testing the laws of physics to see how long before it would collapse internally. It held while I waited for him to speak.

"Maybe," he said distantly and his eyes were drawn helplessly away from mine, back to the shadowy space on my left which was obviously more comforting. "But it doesn't seem like that now. It feels like I've pushed..._them_...away. Like everyone knows that I pushed them away."

"No-one blames you, darling. Why would you even think that?"

He shrugged evasively, leading into some more silence. I allowed partial focus to return to the clay, which had just collapsed. I began the process of moulding it once more, kneading the shape and scoping out an interior. When he spoke again, his voice was younger than I had heard it this century.

"Mom," he said very softly. He sounded so _young_. "You and Dad would never tell Bella about....what happened when Rosalie first came to us, would you?"

I looked up again, my fingers losing their place. "Of course not," I assured him. "That's your business."

He nodded. "Why did you intend us to be together?"

I could hear it now, the need to have this question answered. An answer he already knew, but needed to hear from me. I wondered at his masochistic nature, concerned as always for his state of happiness. I wanted to lie, it seemed to unfair to admit such a thing now that he had found his soul mate, his true love.

Yet nothing but the truth would satisfy him. Nothing ever did.

"We believed," I told him slowly, taking my foot off the pedal so the plate slowed and finally stopped. "That you were meant to be."

He exhaled something that could easily have been a gasp but that was his only reaction. "Why?"

"It's hard to say now, we were so certain of it at the time. There was something about her, even through all the sadness and the anger; we could see it sometimes. Flashing beneath the surface. Like you were a broken mirror and she had some of the pieces. You were very similar too, though you probably don't remember it that way. It wasn't just the beauty and the age similarity. There was something else, something we never understood. But it was between you both. We saw it for years, until Emmett. Then it just stopped and you started to really fight." I sighed there, because even the memory of some of their altercations was unpleasant to me. "You fought like worst enemies, but those who were bound nonetheless. 'Sibling Rivalry', that's what we called it. Eventually, it was clear that you were _too_ similar. More suited to be brother and sister than anything else. We still regret forcing those intentions upon you, when you clearly knew what was best all along. It's caused you undue confusion and I'm sorry for that darling, I really am."

I could have said more, told him more but I didn't have it in me. His need for the truth was often his downfall; I could see how he would mull this over for weeks now, pondering a way of deciding that this entire matter was somehow his fault.

"Thank you for being honest," he told me, finally granting me a look. He smiled beautifully; that smile that always touched his eyes, no matter what was in them. Another damaging talent of his; deception.

"Of course," I replied. He rose and kissed my cheek, a customary parting gift. "Go on now, you should go to Bella."

Outside, the sun was rising. She would wake and want him to be there. Her one true love, the only man she had ever felt such feelings for. I would wait until he was far away before I let myself realise that Bella was not, and would never be, Edward's _first_ love.

A glance at the ruined heap of clay told me that I should give it up and wash my hands. Yet it was not in my nature to do so. I started the spinning up again and decided it could be a welcome home gift for Rose and Emmett when Edward finally decided on the best way to go about doing what he _obviously_ _needed_ to do.

Because it was clear to see at this point that any plan to bring them back was going to involve Edward.

* * *

**-Part Three-**

'_I will be wanted,  
I will not fall from grace.  
Daylight has waited,  
Just to live upon your face.  
I won't be haunted,  
I will not sleep to dream.  
All that I wanted,  
Has been right in front of me.'_

_-Holly Brook_

*

**-Bella-**

The concept of God had always been an elusive one to say the least. My mom had adopted various aspects of myriad religions to suit her tastes, discarding them as soon as she encountered something she didn't quite like. In school, I'd known a girl who burst into tears if anyone _'...took the Lord's name in vain!_'. Now here I was, in love with a vampire – by all mythical accounts, a damned creature. Soulless and evil, the antithesis of God. I had faced my own death and been caught before falling into it, I had seen and knew of things that would shatter many people's beliefs into oblivion. I was surrounded by immortals, the constant threat of death and yet I'd never had any real interest in the matter of theology.

Until now.

Now I was convinced that God existed. And that he hated me.

Why? Because my waking realisation, the first thought to enter my head for the rest of that day, was that Edward....._Edward Cullen..._ was raking through a box of DVDs he had found underneath my bed. DVDs that no being, living or otherwise, should ever see.

DVDs that should never have to be seen by _anyone_ because I wasn't a soppy, love-struck teenager _damnit!_ I was an intelligent, modern thinking female who had her own rules and led her own life and did NOT conform to the stupid norms of teenage film indulgence.

Only I was kind of did. But it was supposed to be this huge secret, hence the hidden DVDs in a box, oh so cleverly labelled '_underwear'_ so that Charlie wouldn't go near nor by it. Now my breathtaking, immortal boyfriend (Boyfriend!) was raking through it, pulling out monstrously embarrassing films that were sure to erase any and all respect he might once have had for me.

He smiled at me warmly, my stupid heart did a back-flip. "Good morning," he practically purred. Why was he allowed to purr things like that and I wasn't even allowed to have some privacy where girly, mortifying films were concerned?

"Hey," I managed, weakly. My throat was dry and useless, I coughed to clear it. "Why are you....doing....that?"

He shrugged elegantly and then in one perfect stride was on his feet from where he had been sitting, cross legged on the floor and planting gentle, brief kisses on my cheeks and nose.

Crossly, I wondered if gravity even affected him the same way it did us mere mortals. I tried to imagine him, or any of his family, falling prey to a slippery area of floor or a lose pavement slab. The idea of Edward Cullen flying through the air in an impressive prat fall, seemed an impossibility of astronomic proportions. I pushed the thought aside, lost in his brief, teasing kisses.

"You are far too beautiful when you sleep," he whispered to me and resumed his position on the floor, rummaging through my box of shame.

I put a hand to my head and groaned with internal dismay. I'd gone to bed with wet hair. Again. It now resembled that of a cave woman. Fabulous. Item number two on today's glitch list.

But glitch number one was far more pressing. Why was this happening to me? It would have been less mortifying for him to come across some sort of diary in which I had jotted down vast, expressive details of my love for him.

Reason enough, knowing my luck, not to keep a diary.

"Edward," I tried, carding my fingers through my hair in a feeble effort to seem less unkempt. "That's...private, you know."

Another thought struck me. The box was marked 'underwear'. Why was he going through something that, to the best of his knowledge, could have been filled with ACTUAL UNDERWEAR?

"Oh," he remarked, somewhat unashamedly. "I'm sorry. It's just fascinating."

I could feel the heat from my face, red hot and pulsing. "That box says...well...underwear. You can't just go through things that say stuff like that."

He gave me a strange little sideways glance. "But," he countered. "There's no underwear in here."

"You didn't know that!" I blurted out.

He smiled, still reaching in and pulling out individual DVDs. Each one raised the temperature of my face by a few degrees. "Ah," he said with a clever smile. "But this box had yet to be opened since your move. It was still taped up and bore a significant layer of dust on the outside. Not to mention the weight of the thing. I had to...move some things from under your bed."

For the first time, he actually had the grace to sound somewhat ashamed.

"Why?" I asked, throwing back the duvet, suddenly concerned. "Was there...an insect or something?"

He laughed. "No, I dropped something and it rolled."

"Like...?"

Those beautiful eyes were smothering mine. "Like a CD."

"Oh." An anticlimax to be sure, but it validated his methods. I grimly accepted the upcoming nature of that day and went off to the bathroom to take care of human business while my immortal boyfriend rifled around in a box of stupid romance films that should never have seen the light of day.

Halfway through brushing my teeth, he called out "I always did like Leonardo DiCaprio."

I froze, mid brush. Fantastic. There was no mistaking the amused tone as it rang through the air. Charlie was long gone by now; his early mornings were of great convenience to us. Ordinarily.

"It was a film of great historic relevance!" I retorted, rolling my eyes in the mirror.

"Which film are you referring to?" his voice sang.

I opened my mouth to reply, instantly remembering that there were at least three movies in that box that would fit such a criteria. Damn.

I cringed, knowing there was no point in trying to keep up with his games this early in the morning. I was going to be teased; end of story. Still, I made a guess. Worth a try.

"_Titanic_?"

A small pause before the definitely amused reply of "Not '_Romeo + Juliet'_ or _'The Man in the Iron Mask'_?"

I glared at no-one but my own reflection. "Laugh it up all you want. I guess you're safe in the knowledge that things like this will never happen to you."

"Hardly."

I jumped so completely and so violently that the toothbrush knocked one of my back teeth, hard. He had _appeared_ out of _nowhere_...Right. Behind. Me. Seeing it in the mirror was like watching a magic trick. He had literally burst into being out of thin air. My poor heart was thundering painfully and it protested even further as his arms wrapped around me from behind, his chin resting on my bare shoulder.

"Christ on a bicycle!" I gasped, unable to stop it.

Item number three.

He laughed openly at that, his giggles reverberating through my back. I cursed myself, God...the universe in general. Wonderful. _Just_ peachy.

"Oh Bella," he laughed. "I've never even heard that expression before. Where do you come up with things like this?"

I tried to continue brushing my teeth, hopeful – but not optimistic – that I might be able to retain a shred of dignity. "I do copious amounts of research from books like _'How to Embarrass Yourself to the Point of Suicide' _and _'Immortal Boyfriend? Here's How To Mess It Up!'_"

He pressed his lips into the side of my neck and I lost the rhythm of brushing. My eyes fluttered and my pulse jolted as if electrocuted. Stupid, mesmeric, know-it-all vampire boyfriend. "Breaking the rules," I pointed out, but very weakly.

The kiss was withdrawn, but he stayed close, cold arms encircling me. He looked at me in the mirror. "It's only breaking the rules if you object to it."

I gave him a wry smile and noticed, not with any real surprise, that a line of toothpaste flavoured drool had escaped my lips and was trailing down my chin.

Item four. I'd only been up five minutes. What did that average out at? 1.25 horrifying incidents per minute. Wonderful.

I scrubbed it away furiously with one hand and then eased out of his embrace so I could gargle. Why was he here for this? Usually he allowed me some privacy for human necessities.

"I love seeing you do things like this," he commented softly, as if reading my mind. I had to admit that on occasion I found myself feeling deeply suspicious of his assurances that my mind was closed off to him. The accuracy with which he reacted to me wasn't...normal.

"Making a fool of myself before I'm even dressed?" I grumbled, but not with any seriousness. Today was like any other day. A beautiful fairy tale come true, except that the princess constantly tripped over her dress and fell flat on her face.

"No, being so human."

He said the word '_human_' as if it was a precious, fascinating thing. I sighed, mystified as to why he would think something so horribly inconvenient and mortifying was something to treasure.

I needed to pee, but was at a loss for how to ask him to leave. I looked up at the mirror, about to do so but he was gone. I shook my head with the second wry smile of the morning.

"Stalker," I commented.

I could hear his chuckle from the bedroom. "Indeed, because no teenaged girl fantasises about having a male vampire in their bedroom."

Bathroom necessities over and done with, I returned to my bedroom to find the box of DVDs gone, thankfully. My bed was pristinely made, the covers pulled over with such precision that I could have bounced a coin off them if I'd chosen to do so. He was leaning against the windowsill, waiting for me.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked me, languidly. Damn him and that voice, making his question seem like an offer of sinful, but highly pleasurable acts.

"I don't know, it's up to you."

"We could go shopping," he suggested wickedly, but for once his tone was not the least bit seductive as for him shopping entailed spending an obscene amount of money (Obscene amount of money? I'd seen _that_ movie too many times) on me.

"Dream on," I replied instantly.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "One of my favourite songs."

"Oh? Who by?" Some fantastic classical composer no doubt who would sweep me off my feet with beautiful complicated symphonies.

"It's in the car. If you let me drive, you can listen to it on the way."

"On the way where?" I asked warily. It had better not involve shops and limitless credit cards.

"Home," he told me, turning his back on me to look out of the window in anticipation of my changing clothes.

This process was by all accounts an unnecessary one. I could easily have taken my chosen outfit into the bathroom and changed there. He could have gone downstairs, waited outside or something, but it didn't play out like that. He turned his back and I would change. There was something terribly sexy about it in a slightly terrifying way. My fingers always shook a little, my heart pounding almost painfully. He had to be able to hear it, but I didn't care. This weird, totally superfluous little intimacy was something I prized greatly.

I was hyper aware of my breathing, shallower than usual. The rustling fabric as it slipped over my skin was loud; everything was evident, obvious. Strange, how something so simple could make my blood so hot.

Dizzying minutes passed in which I managed not to faint.

Dressed and having consumed a quick breakfast, I was ready to go. I left Charlie a note on the microwave, with his dinner inside in case I wasn't back in time. Though the instruction were clear and explicit (how hard was it to press three buttons?) I worried for the safety of the house and had expressed these concerns in the longer than necessary note.

Once inside the car, I felt excited. Spending a Saturday with Edward was one of my favourite things and getting to be with Alice and the rest of the family was an added bonus. Though I was still a little nervous around some of them, it was getting better everyday.

Guiltily, I tried to ignore the fact that one person's absence had made such strides much easier.

Though why should I feel guilty? Rosalie blatantly despised me. She had never attempted to hide that fact and without her there (though I missed Emmett) it was just that much easier to breathe. For me at least.

I could tell, without having once asked the question, that the rest of the family were having a hard time coping with the absence. It had been a few weeks now, bordering on a month and though secretly thrilled about the lack of a certain person, clearly I alone held this opinion.

Even Edward wasn't quite the same without Emmett around. Inside the house, he was quieter than before. Slightly more withdrawn. I didn't complain because the upside of this was an unexpected one. The more withdrawn he became around his family, the more open and unguarded he became with me. The compensation for losing his brother (I was confident that the loss of his sister, Rosalie, hadn't affected him in the slightest) was that he seemed able to lose himself in me. The amount of time he spent with me was considerable and increasingly so as the days went on. Maybe he didn't like being around the others when they missed Rosalie and Emmett in equal measure, and he simply did not.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," he sighed wistfully. "It's so strange, being so shut out."

I should probably have shrugged secretively, letting him think what he wanted to. Building a mystery, as it were. But I didn't, because he'd made a request (sort of) and I was helpless to answer it.

"Rosalie," I told him, looking out at the speeding road. "I was thinking about Rosalie."

Edward's driving, though exceptional in skill, was somewhat terrifying. He drove at a speed that would have made the blood drain from Charlie's face. More than having an vampire for a boyfriend, I feared for my life owing to his alarming driving. But at least he was an incredibly observational driver; he could probably see things coming for miles and....

"Edward!"

My heart leapt up in my throat and I flung my arm out to make sure he could see what even my useless mortal eyes could see.

Barely reacting, he compensated the steering so we didn't hit the tree, now at least a quarter of a mile behind us. He glanced down and I felt him reduce the speed. So much for my assumptions.

"What the hell?" I gasped, hand on my hammering heart. "Didn't you see it?"

"I think one of the tyres is a little splashy," he told me, throwing me a reassuring smile. "Sorry, Bells."

"Sorry? My whole life flashed before my eyes!"

He snorted. "I'll bet it was rich and varied."

"Yeah, well...just concentrate on the road. I'd like to stay alive long enough to graduate, thanks!"

"You will," he swore with quiet intensity.

I heaved a sigh, giving up talking to him when he was in one of _those_ moods. He fiddled effortlessly with the stereo while I propped my face up on my elbow, leaning against the door. Forks almost seemed beautiful as we drove (at a much safer speed) through all the greenery. After a few minutes of silence, I realised the song playing was surely some CD of Alice's. It was a female singer, her voice ethereal and hypnotic.

"Why is Alice's CD in your car?" I murmured, rather wrapped up in the song.

"It's my CD. This is Kelly Sweet. The song is _'Dream On'_, the one I told you about."

I sat up. "But...I thought you meant like a classical song."

He shrugged, eyes firmly on the road. "You like it?"

I did, very much. "Yeah, I just didn't think you liked this kind of music."

My crooked smile, so very welcomed. "Girly music?"

"No," I countered, trying to think how to phrase it. "Just...y'know. Pretty, sweet...alright, fine. Girly music."

"Well, some people like girly music, some like girly films. I guess we all have our flaws. I know you have a worrying obsession with Mr DiCaprio, and you know that I enjoy – and frequently sing along to – girly, singer/songwriter music. I believe that makes us equal in the blackmail stakes, should you get any ideas."

I giggled. "You sing along?"

"In key," he added with an exaggerated flourish.

I shook my head, unable to stop smiling. "I love you, you know."

"Wait until you hear me sing."

We listened to the music in silence for a while, it felt like he wanted to ask me something but couldn't find the phrasing. I decided it could wait until later and was content to look forward to another day with the Cullens, minus the one who despised me so. I cherished those days, not having to worry about her disapproval or hatred lurking behind the walls of the beautiful house.

I was lost in my contemplations when he unexpectedly spoke, almost making me jump.

"Why were you thinking about Rosalie?" he blurted out.

That was, of course, why I'd jumped. He never blurted anything out. Each word was precise and carefully chosen, spoken in a perfect rhythm and tone. Hearing him speak in anything less than that velvet purr instantly threw me off. My mind worked to answer his question without the preface of a 'huh?'.

"I was thinking about how different things are when Rosalie and Emmett are away."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I guess you're probably used to it, because of how they go away a lot." It wasn't a lie exactly; he had told me they left the family sometimes.

"Yes, they do," he assured me a little too strongly. "A lot."

"When will they be back?" I asked, desperately trying to sound neutral.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened audibly. "That depends on her, as always."

But the way he said it, I didn't quite believe him. Though I knew it was my fault that they had left, I knew with equal certainty that Edward had had some say in the matter. It was a great relief to know that any chances of them returning any time soon, would most certainly involve Edward.

* * *

**-Part Four-**

*

'_If right is leaving I'd rather be wrong,  
She is the sunlight and the sun is gone.  
If loving her is a heartache for me,  
And if holding her means that I have to bleed,  
Then I am the martyr and love is to blame.  
She is the healing and I am the pain.  
She lives in a daydream where I don't belong,  
She is the sunlight and the sun is gone.'_

_-Trading Yesterday_

_*_

**-Emmett-**

Here's the thing.

Much as I loved literature and movies – and I genuinely did – sometimes, they could be misleading to a dangerous extent. I read those books, with the tragic romances or the movies with the perfect, beautiful love scenes and I laughed. The reality of love was a disturbing, painful, sometimes ugly thing that had no place in fiction.

Rosalie was my whole life, my world. She was everything to me and I could never ask for more but that didn't necessarily mean that it was _Happily Ever After_. We'd been together for over sixty years (longer than some people exist) and there we were, yelling and fighting over a stupid misunderstanding. Again.

Married life, especially being a gorgeous immortal, must have conjured up such wonderful imagery. Romance, wealth, beauty, extravagance, forever and ever...

Sure, it sounded great. But it was fiction. Anything like that was always going to be fiction because even in the best of relationships, every single day was hard work.

Sex, for example. When all those teen girls are out there fantasising about it, how perfect and beautiful and wonderful it'll be...they have no idea. Maybe I'd even been like that, painfully naive about such things, but I wasn't now. In terms of sex and love, Rosalie was all I knew and though we were quite famously an explosive couple, renowned for our passion and intimacy, it hadn't always been so.

The first time for us had been a disaster, in almost every way possible. It was clumsy, inelegant, embarrassing and mutually dissatisfying. I'd had no real idea what I was doing, no idea about anything except that I loved her. I'd been nervous about even touching her, let alone making love and in retrospect, it was something we rushed into – brought about by some forgettable fight she'd had with Edward. She'd been tense, angry, obviously upset. I'd tried to comfort her but didn't want to talk about it. Instead she'd kissed me and it was clear from that hard, bruising kiss that kissing wasn't enough anymore. I'd felt it too, the need for more, but I was still anxious.

Of course, I'd had good reason to be nervous. The last person who had touched Rosalie like that had been Royce King. I was a bag of nerves, terrified of hurting her (illogical and unlikely) or of intimidating her if I seemed too proficient (_highly_ unlikely). Summed up; disastrous. It took her weeks to coax me back into any form of intimacy with regards to anything beyond kissing and I was still clumsy and nervous, lost in a world of uncertainty and insecurity.

But, as with everything in our lives, we pressed on through it. We learned, we memorised, I had to _ask_ about things which was mortifying (especially when she struggled not to laugh) but the first time we got it _right_...I wouldn't trade the memory of that for anything. The heat, the shuddering pleasures and passion and so deeply close at last...it was _us_ and it made everything before that seem worth it. The connection between us was strengthened, made suddenly so real.

Of course, after that we became kind of addicted to it. Perhaps it was compensation for having such a bad start, but it didn't matter. Sex became one of the primary outlets for us. Once we were joined properly, it was a connection that never broke again. Love was made real, tangible.

"Stupid, ignorant moron of a husband!" she yelled from the bedroom of the beach house we were renting "Can't even change a light bulb without breaking it!"

"You're immortal!" I yelled back. "YOU CAN SEE IN THE DARK!"

I heard something else break and hoped, vaguely unconcerned, it was something that didn't require replacing. This upcoming fight wasn't unexpected at all. It had been brewing for days, long overdue and to be honest, I was relieved we were finally getting into it.

That there was another element the teenagers don't factor into their perfect little daydreams. The fighting, the bitching and the moaning. When people live together, regardless of any awesome and spectacular immortality, _they fight_. Everybody fights. Jasper and Alice, even Carlisle and Esme...they all fought, all argued about something sometimes. Though I didn't know for sure, I had to assume that Edward and Bella would fight when he finally broke down and turned her.

For my part, I knew that I was a pretty easy going kind of guy. I agreed with a lot of the complete bullshit that Rosalie insisted we undergo, regardless of the total lack of necessity. I put up with a lot from her (and calling it a 'lot' doesn't really begin to cover it) but everyone has breaking points. She would push and push until I finally broke down, usually over something miniscule and pathetic and then there'd be no going back. Then we'd turn and face each other and it would begin. The backlash, the retorts and then the shouting. No-one could shout and scream like Rose. No-one. She had this way of just letting loose that violent darkness that I knew lay inside her and my God, it was certainly an experience. I'd shout back at her, telling her she was being ridiculous or gratuitously cruel. She'd reply scathingly, calling me an idiot who understood nothing beyond the great outdoors and the next hunt. I'd say she was obsessed with the past and that she couldn't see what was right in front of her, by which point she'd usually slapped me. To that, I would raise an eyebrow and wait patiently for her to either storm out of the room and continue to blow off steam (usually at great expense to our furniture) or to see something in my eyes that would deflate her vicious anger into regret and apologies.

Almost always, the outcome was one of those. But sometimes, just sometimes...it would explode into something else. Sometimes all that tension and anger and rawness would just twist and burst into something totally different and we'd be kissing like I couldn't even describe. The sex, the tension and her total inability to control that darkness she thought I knew nothing of...it made life unpredictable. A whirlwind of a marriage and a lot of hard work, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Sometimes there were days she simply gave up and let the darkness of her past literally crash down around her. I could always tell days before when something like this was approaching. Usually I could manage to drag the both of us away somewhere else before it all began, hoping to spare the rest of our family from dealing with such heartbreak. One thing I knew about Rosalie, and it hurt me to even think it, was that she would never be able to let go of the past. It was a part of her, it had moulded who she was and she would never forget, never forgive, never fully move on. Royce King wasn't so much a figure in this self-destruction as was the inability to have children. In many ways this hurt me as much as it hurt her, but her pain was easier to cope with than my own. We both longed for that baby that would resemble her, but have my _'run-into-walls-headlong'_ energy. To make something out of our bodies, out of our love...maybe we only wanted it because it could never happen. It was almost easy to forget what we were, what we really _were_. Vampires couldn't have children. It was a very simple, obvious rule but we lived almost like humans and her longing for that bundle of warmth and giggles bled easily into me.

The sadness and sorrow was devastating to us, but we worked through it. She would get to a point where she had to take it out on me in order to cry. Rosalie could never just cry. She hated to cry and it always took some terrible action, usually against me, to trigger it. Necessary evils, in a way. She would cry, I would cry and we would get through it.

Which was what we always did, regardless of what we endured. We got through it together. Our life together was worth that, worth an eternity of tears and bitching and damned hard work. She was everything to me... _everything_.

And now we had another issue to work through. It would come out during the fight, I was sure of it. Probably come flying out of me, actually. After the first two weeks of bliss in Africa (seriously, sharks!) whatever she'd run away from in Forks had started to creep back into her eyes, into her soul.

I took a deep breath and went into the bedroom, preparing myself for the ensuing drama and doom. It was dark, owing to the lack of a light bulb but I could see her perfect silhouette against the window, outlined by the moonlight shimmering across the waves not far from where we stood.

She turned away from me minutely and I moved closer to her. "You OK?" I asked, testing the waters to see where we were in the scheme of things.

"As if you care," she spat.

Ah, level three. 'Pissy Bitch.'

"You know why you're like this?" I posited, calmly.

"Because I'm married to an incompetent gorilla?"

"That, but also because you're a spoilt brat."

I got told very explicitly where to go and what to do on the way.

"Much as I'd love to, we need to talk."

She swivelled her gaze upon me, levelling that terrifying weight and darkness right at the centre of my being. "_We need to talk? _Are you breaking up with me, baby?"

Oooh, she was a sarcastic bitch when she wanted to be. But I was used to that, years of it. I stood my ground, kept control over my voice and held her stare.

"We need to talk about why you don't want to go back."

I expected another dismissive gesture, something spitefully casual. Instead she said nothing, but her mouth thinned to a fine line and her eyes narrowed. She waited, silent and motionless. "Rosalie," I prompted. "You _knew_ this was coming. Did you think I wouldn't start to ask questions about why you're writing inventories of our furniture? Why you're scanning through real estate listings for Alaska?"

"Maybe I'm just daydreaming," she tried, too casual to be anything but deflective.

"If you're planning to FedEx the Goddamned desk, then it's got to be serious, Rose!"

That beautiful mouth curled up into a sneer and I knew we were about to start rolling any minute. "So what if I am? You _want_ to go back there and endure that revolting little human making your throat burn all the livelong day?"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Rosalie," I warned. Her shoulders squared as she detected the use of her full name. Trisyllabic names were often shortened down and when they weren't, something was usually wrong. Of course, Rosalie was the only one in our family to possess such a distinction anyway, but it was a universally acknowledged fact; one she wasn't ignorant of. "There are other reasons we're halfway across the planet."

The sneer intensified. "Oh of course. What was I thinking, assuming you were adult enough to actually let _that_ go."

"I'm not the one who has issues in letting things go."

"Oh just shut up!" she snapped, looking entirely disgusted with me. "I'm not going over this again. If you want to move back to Forks and play Happy Families, feel free!"

She moved away from me, intending to storm out, but I caught her by the wrist and pulled her back to me. "Why are we here, Rosalie?" I demanded. "Don't lie to me, I hate it when you do that! As if I'm a little boy who needs protecting!"

"Well what are you then, if not a little boy?"

"I'm your husband, Goddamnit! Does that mean nothing to you, can't you trust me at all?"

Each word was as hard as stone. "I trust you more than I trust myself." She faltered a little, throat contracting. "I trust you above all else, but there are things I need to deal with on my own!"

"Like?"

"What part of _on my own_ did you not grasp?"

"You can't cope alone!"

SMACK!

There it was, almost predictable. Painless, but hurtful. Her hand cracked across my face as I stumbled back across the line I'd almost crossed. Hurt and angry, the words tumbled out before I had the chance to paraphrase.

"Why did you both need to shower that night?"

She had been gasping, almost panting but she froze mid breath and I saw something flash through those eyes I so loved. "Excuse me?"

"Don't stall," I snapped. "Answer the question."

"I'd have thought that was obvious," she fairly snarled. "Your out of control wife did what she does best. Loses her temper and takes it out on whoever's closest. We fought, I nearly killed him. He was there after I crashed just....baiting me. He was so smug, telling me how I'd messed it all up, saying how he'd told me I would one day. I lost it. I threw him through a tree, tore at him. I would have killed him, but somehow I didn't. Showering afterwards was kind of a necessity if you recall how much it rained that night."

"And that's the truth?"

"Of _course_ it is! You think that I would be capable of doing...._that_...with _**him**_**...**after fighting with you?" The words were distorted now, escaping past gritted teeth.

After a moment I felt the pinch of guilt at the base of my spine. "No, I don't," I answered truthfully. "But you never explained."

"I didn't think I had to."

Silence, painful nasty silence. Finally, I asked "Why don't you want to go back?"

"You don't know?"

"I'm not a mind reader!"

A cracked and bitter smile. "I guess you think that's _funny_."

I sighed, trying to exhale the frustration along with the recycled oxygen. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Just tell me what we're doing here, I have a right to know what you're doing with our lives!"

That seemed to hit the first of the buttons that would eventually lead to her calming down. When she spoke, it was much more controlled. "At first it was because of Bella. I'd been thinking about it for a while. I do genuinely hate being around her, you must know that."

"I do," I said. "What else?"

Her eyes rose to mine, catching like magnets. "You. I thought it would be easier if you didn't have to see Edward for a while. If we could spend some time alone, just us. Get back to how we were before _she_ came into our lives."

"That's why we're here, but why don't you want to go back, Rose?"

The hands shook, twitched uselessly in an echo of human nervousness. "Because....because it's easier for him. For Edward. It's easier without me. He's happier without me."

It was hollow, dark and full of despair. It rang true because of it. Honesty never sounded pretty, never rang like a bell. The words had to dragged out and it reflected in the sounds as they formed.

"So you're doing this for him?" I asked, swallowing once.

"For _everyone_," she told me, regaining control over her hands. "All I do is create unnecessary misery for everyone and it's clear she's not going anywhere. I'm trying to do the right thing here. For everyone."

Everyone except herself. That martyr complex again.

"That's ridiculous, but well intended, I guess," I sighed rolling my eyes. Most of the tension has dissipated during her confession, though I was still a little hurt. It could wait, it always did. "At least you're being honest."

Now she seemed wretched, broken and utterly desolate. I could see it about to happen again. "I'm sorry," she whispered, throat tight and strangled. "I'm so sorry for everything."

She put her hand to her mouth, eyes closing tightly and I'd pulled her into my arms before the first sob could escape. I kissed her hair as we fell to the floor in a heap of knees and awkward embraces. She hated to be held while she (if ever) cried, but she let me then. In fact, she clung to me. Her equally strong arms wrapping around me as she leaned her head against my chest, just under my chin. I didn't say anything, I didn't need to. I rocked her gently in my arms and held her there for what could easily have been hours. I would fix her, I always did; I'd make it better, make it hurt less. Ease the pain, hold her steady while she was caught in it. She had done so for me countless times.

Life – be it married or immortal (or both) – was never easy. This was doubly true if the life you shared was with Rosalie Hale. That life meant enduring much, embracing pains and darkness that weren't you own. It meant fighting and compromising and uncertainty.

But I was certain of three things.

First, that I loved her to such a ridiculous extent that it completely nullified all the aforementioned crap. I loved her so much that none of it mattered. Our life together was beyond anything I had ever hoped for and nothing would jeopardise that. She was my everything.

Second was that Rosalie clearly couldn't cope without our family. I knew this was no reflection upon me. She simply loved them so much and facing a more permanent separation from them than we had ever faced was taking it's toll on her. I'd have to get her to agree to go back.

Thirdly, (and this would piss her off monumentally when she found out) if this plan were to have any success, I would have to involve Edward.

* * *

**-Part Five-**

*

'_Cellar door what's the case?  
Are you locked in your shadow's embrace?  
Do you feel so insane, that you don't...  
__You don't want to show me your face?  
But I, I can relate.  
Holding on, to everything, that makes us bleed.  
Overflowing underneath my pretty face,  
With the presence of the haste.  
Now they're saying don't believe anything,  
But I do believe I know you.'_

_-Holly Brook_

*

**-Edward-**

"It's broken."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can tell."

"It doesn't seem broken to me."

I hit the G sharp note with my middle finger a few times to be certain; it's dull, toneless resonance served as full evidence to my ears that the string had broken. To Bella's poor, human ears she probably hadn't been able to discern the difference as I'd been playing the piano for her, her lullaby.

"It is," I said. "Definitely broken."

I rose from the stool, leaned over the keys and peered inside the already open instrument; the beautiful baby grand. A quick scan of the strings and the dampers and there it was. The broken string, curled with impact. I sighed; wondering if it would have to be sent away for repairs or if I could get Esme to take a look at it later. She was always very good with fixing instruments, she had such patience and attention to minute detail.

"It sounded beautiful anyway," Bella assured me.

I gave up with the piano and turned back to her with a small smile. "Why thank you, Miss Swan."

She gestured with her hand that I sit on the small couch next to her, but instead I dropped gracefully to the floor and sat cross legged opposite her. She rolled her eyes, but settled back anyway.

"How did it break?" she asked me casually. "The string."

I shrugged as if I didn't _know_ exactly how it had snapped and who was responsible for it. I was trying to ignore the way that scent lingered heavily upon the ivory key, clung to the wood of the frame and even the seat.

"It doesn't matter," I detracted. "It can be easily fixed."

A part of me marvelled at the simplicity of my life, now reflected in any and all conversations. Simple, uncomplicated speech, concerning simple uncomplicated matters. I had always been a deeply complex being, able to juggle endless issues and problems all at once. Now there was no need to.

I should have felt relaxed. I knew that.

Only, of course, I didn't.

The simplicity of things might have been bearable, were it not for the fear that sat inside my chest, waiting for those moment when I would be without Bella. Moments, bleeding into minutes and then hours spent without her, my beautiful wonderful distraction.

Bella had indeed become my entire life now; there was little else to focus upon without...other people. But when Bella was gone, there was this staggering mass of _nothing_. No amount of books, music or familial company could erase the terror of knowing that without Bella, I barely even existed anymore.

Simply put (in-keeping with the new scheme of things) I had been torn in half. Half of me was ripped and gone and without Bella there to make me forget that, the pain was beyond even my own comprehension.

The first few days without Rosalie had been relatively easy. I'd thrown myself into Bella, spending time with her, talking to her – severely depriving her of sleep, to keep her with me as long as possible. It had seemed that I might even be able to cope, maybe be able to live some semblance of a life without bearing the weight of treachery and guilt.

But then it had sunk in. She was gone. She was gone and she wasn't coming back.

And that was when it had started.

It was like realising all of a sudden that a piece of my body had been taken without my permission. Trying to get my mind to function without her was like trying to write without arms. Nothing made sense, all my precious intelligence and knowledge was locked away in a box and I'd forgotten the combination to the lock.

Even that hadn't been so bad and honestly, I'd been expecting something similar. No matter how many times Rosalie and Emmett went away for a few months, it always hit me the same. We were the leaning structures, only upright because we leant into one another, caught in the centre. Without her it was only logical that I would come crashing down and that it would take time to readjust. I had managed to cope with this before, _that_ wasn't the issue.

The real problems began three days after that.

The pain of the loss was excruciating, to be sure. Constant shredding ache buried deep within my bones, screaming in the back of my mind and clawing at whatever common sense it could get close to. But this wasn't anything new. What was new was that now it was starting to affect my sanity. Really, actually affect it.

I didn't even know vampires could _have_ hallucinations.

The first one had appeared when I speaking with Carlisle. He had wasted little time in pulling me aside to speak about my sudden withdrawal from life in general without Bella. We'd been in his study, he was leaning against his desk while I sat in the chair like a berated child, pretending to listen when something had appeared to be lurking in the shadows behind him.

I'd stared harder into the darkness, forcing my eyes to focus on whatever it was until it formed and all my breath went in one unstoppable motion.

Rosalie was leaning casually against the wall, almost mirroring Carlisle's posture. Arms crossed over that beautiful black velvet button up shirt, she'd rolled her eyes at me and smiled. That secret smile we had used when we were younger, anytime we thought Carlisle and Esme weren't looking. That smile that said far too much, spoke words in a language that no-one else would ever know, words that stirred things within me that should never have been stirred again.

Then I'd blinked and she was gone. For a few seconds, I'd just gawked at the mass of shadows behind my father, questioning my already fragile sanity.

Carlisle had not been best pleased with my lack of concentration and I had tried to dismiss the matter entirely so as to give him my full attention.

Over the course of the next few days and nights, things became progressively worse. She began to appear at the most awkward moments, always when my mind was elsewhere, usually speaking to someone. Always behind that other person, always silent but always so horribly _real_. To the left of Esme in the hobby room, next to Alice in the den while I had been trying to read. It didn't matter where in our house I was, she would randomly appear and all my peace would burn up like hair in a fire.

The only thing that had kept her at bay was Bella. Up to a certain point, the hallucinations (and they had to be hallucinations, they just _had_ to be – I knew that much) had not manifested when I was with Bella. It was easier being with her, she was incredibly soothing. Her love touched me, brushed over the half of me that was gone, raw and ripped apart and I could forget.

And then she had said _her_ name while I was driving.

It was my own fault, asking her what she was thinking, but the very last word I expected to come out of her mouth was the word that almost caused me crash the car into a tree. Again, the irony of which was not lost on me. For one split second just after Bella had told me she was thinking of Rosalie, I had glanced into the rear view mirror and seen her. Her eyes boring into mine; dark and depthless, full and knowing and utterly devouring. She had _been_ in the back of my car and I hadn't been able to look away. Very narrowly did I avoid wrapping us around that tree.

Now I lived in fear of when she would appear next. I desperately wished to confide my increasing insanity with someone, anyone – but to do so would have lasting effects, echoes and consequences that I couldn't cope with. Even the thought of telling Jasper, who would genuinely sympathise, was unbearable. If I told someone, that made it real. I really _was_ losing my mind then, because others would know of it.

Immortals didn't get sick; I knew it wasn't a physical symptom of anything, which meant it could only be a psychological aspect. Insanity, most likely. And insanity didn't just go away. I feared it would escalate to such a degree that I could no longer tell reality from delusion. It made me question everything, things I didn't want to question as it tore at the fabric of my very existence to do so, but such musings were impossible to control.

"Hey," came Bella's soft voice. "Where did you just go?"

I blinked and shook myself. "Nowhere as pleasant as here," I assured her without the slightest hesitation. "Nowhere that had you."

Rosalie wouldn't have fallen for that. She would have dismissed such purple prose and demanded to know where my mind had wandered to. She would never be satisfied with anything but the truth; she knew me too well to swallow such lies.

But Bella just smiled at me, little heart racing all the faster.

We left the piano alone and spent the rest of the day in my room, listening to music and talking about the most random of subjects. I let her talk for hours, her voice was intensely relaxing to me. Only when the sun began to set did I realise just how long we had been sitting on the floor, surrounded by CDs, talking.

"Oh crap! What time is it?" she said suddenly, jumping a little and frantically spinning around – cricking her precious, flimsy neck in the process – to look for a clock. There wasn't one, of course.

"Eight forty six," I answered instantly.

She spared herself a moment to look grudgingly impressed by that and then she stood up, wincing as the blood rushed to her legs too quickly. It made my stomach clench, to see her in any amount of pain. I knew her leg still hurt her sometimes; a reminder of my selfishness in keeping her in my life. A life that could only mean bad things for her, ultimately.

"I completely forgot," she was saying, frantically searching for her things – now scattered around my room. "I'm supposed to be having 'family time' with Charlie tonight. Damn it, I'm supposed to be home by nine." She threw me a speculative look. "You can drive faster than you can run, right?"

I chuckled and rose to my feet in one motion. "I'll drive, you'll be home with minutes to spare. Don't worry."

She resumed her search for her belongings. "Yeah well, so long as you don't drive us off the road like earlier."

A stab of fear hit in my upper chest; a sharp, icy bolt of terror at the realisation that tonight she would be spending time with Charlie and I would have to respect that and leave her to it. I couldn't even lurk around in her bedroom, thus cementing my reputation as a stalker. I'd have to be alone.

No.

No.

The fear solidified, became pain. Pain became a physical, corporeal hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing and strangling. Without Bella...

"Edward, are you OK?"

The pain vanished as if it were nothing but a nightmare. She was right in front of me, closer than I'd even noticed. I could see the swirly depths of her lovely brown eyes. I could practically taste her, she smelled so delicious. And there was that steady beautiful heartbeat; an earthy, deep rhythm that kept me grounded, kept me focussed on maintaining it no matter what.

I couldn't quite speak, my mouth opened but the words weren't forthcoming. Concerned, she put her hand to my face. It felt extremely warm, hot even. I could smell the blood moving through her thin, flimsy wrists. It hurt me, but that was good.

"Fine," I said, only two seconds later but that was still too long. I couldn't – _wouldn't_ – let her see what was happening. "I'm totally fine. Just sad that I won't get to spend tonight with you."

She moved slowly, so as to give me warning, into my arms. Very cautiously, she leant her face into my chest and breathed against it, "Me too."

Painstakingly careful, I wrapped my arms around her, using none of the strength to hold her that my bones demanded. I wanted to hold her to me, never let her go. The slightest flex or change in pressure would crush her back, spine and most of her ribs. The effort of preventing this was usually second nature, but I didn't trust myself just then. After a few moment, I eased backwards and out of her warm embrace.

She seemed hurt, but I reminded her with her favourite smile, that she needed be home in twelve minutes.

Nine minutes later, we were outside the house. I kept the engine running, not trusting myself to turn it off and risk asking her if I could actually spend the next few hours hidden away in her room.

"Will you come by tonight?" she asked, trying to ferociously stifle a yawn.

My poor sleep deprived Bella. Out of some untapped well of chivalry I managed to assure her that she needed sleep more than she needed her boyfriend keeping her up all night. She made a suggestive comment, which I dutifully ignored, and told her that I would see her tomorrow when I came to drive her to school. She said she wanted to take the truck. We bantered about that for a few moments until she caught sight of the clock in my car and yelped.

A quick kiss on the lips, "I love you," back and forth and then she was gone. Door shut behind her and I was alone. Alone.

But for how long?

I started the car up, ignoring my trembling fingers and began the drive back home. I was lost in the dread of a whole night without Bella, terrified of what would happen when I got back to my family without her.

"Get a grip," I told myself through clenched teeth. "_Get a grip!_"

"I agree."

I _broke_.

I must have...I must have actually broken apart. My mind, long subjected to years, decades of torture and instability, must have finally shattered. Snapped. Fractured. Gone.

The car slammed to a halt, the force of which was enough to throw me forward, my head only millimetres away from the steering wheel. Gasping, shaken beyond what I was sure I could control, I turned to my right to see just how extensive the damage to my mentality was.

Rosalie was sitting in the passenger seat, looking as cool and unruffled as ever. Her hair immaculate and glorious, her clothes impeccable and expensive and God, her eyes. One side of her mouth curled slightly.

"A little dramatic, don't you think? Bald tyres are no man's friend."

My foot was pressed so hard on the brake pedal that it might have actually been about to go through the floor of the car. I gripped the steering wheel hard enough that it started to groan in protest. She crossed her arms impatiently and looked pointedly at the ignition.

"Just because you're a soulless demon, doesn't mean you shouldn't care about the environment," she pointed out.

Numbly, without knowing how or why, my fingers slipped from the wheel and turned the keys. The car went quiet, the sounds of the night flooded my ears, white noise almost.

"You're..." my throat closed, cutting off the words. "You..you're not..."

"Not real?" she finished, helpfully. "Not really here? Well of course. What did you think, I'd learned to teleport?"

My mind wasn't working, nothing was being processed. I couldn't locate her scent, but that was meaningless – I couldn't taste or smell _anything_. My senses fled, only my eyes told me that it was Rosalie Hale sitting in my car.

Clearly, I'd left my insanity back at the Swan residence.

"So, how've you been?" she asked casually, inspecting a nail with mild interest.

I choked, throat contracting painfully. "You're not real," I managed to gasp.

"I thought we'd covered that already," she sighed, as if reminding a forgetful five year old of his multiplications. "I'm a figment of your overactive imagination."

I shook my head, hoping she would be gone when I opened my eyes. She wasn't. Now she was looking at me as if I was mentally damaged. A high possibility at this point.

"Really, Edward. You're being quite childish. I haven't seen you in a while and all you can do is shake your head and hope I'll vanish?"

It was her voice, no doubt about it. Disdain, arrogance, undertones. The texture, the resonance of her throat. Every single thing about her screamed that she was real...really there. Only my stubborn mind clung to the fact that she wasn't. Couldn't be.

"Stop it," I breathed, not daring to open my eyes. "Please, _please_ stop it."

"Stop what? Stop existing? Not even you can make that happen, love."

My chest heaved, back jolted as if I might be sick. Holding onto something resembling common sense was like climbing up a massive tower of ice.

Everyone had breaking points.

Breaking...breaking...broken.

"Oh God, oh my God. I've lost my mind, haven't I?"

She snorted derisively, very loud too. It broke through some of the static silence that had been building in my ears. "Hardly. I'm pretty sure there's a scientific explanation for this, or at least psychological. You have issues, you need to vent. Et Voila!"

Slowly, I opened my eyes. She was still there, threatening to destroy my shaky truce with what little theism I had constructed over the years.

I drew myself into a sitting position, realising there were lights behind me...us. I turned slightly to see if she would block out the light as the other car drove past, trying to bring the world back to a plane I understood. The other car drove on unconcerned, she blocked out the light as it went; practically cast a shadow.

"It's your fault for having such a clever mind," she told me. "It'll show you whatever you need to think I'm actually here."

I took a breath. "Why? Why are you here?"

She tilted her head inquisitively. "You tell me. It's your brain."

My eyes slammed shut again; the childish _'If-I-Can't-See-You-Then-You-Can't-See-Me!' _mantra pulsing through me with the intensity born of desperation.

"Well, this is productive," she drawled. "What a waste of serotonin."

"It's _hardly_ excessive amounts of chemicals in my brain!" I snapped. "Don't you think I've already thought of that? How can there be adrenaline or dopamine or serotonin if there's no blood to push it around?"

"How do we move, exist, consume?"

Annoyed, my eyes flew open. "The venom, obviously! It's alive where nothing else is. It's the element that replaces everything else. You know this!"

"Then how do we cry? Have sex?"

"Like Carlisle posits, if the emotions are strong enough it resurrects something inside us, something long lost but able to function if we're..."

I stopped dead, realising I was having a scientific debate with a figment of my imagination.

"Now that you're back on track," she said, sounding immensely smug. "How's about delving into these pressing, life ending issues?"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"You're doing it to yourself. I can't even begin fathom the masochism you engage in. I mean this is seriously twisted, but it's what you need. Call it a survival mechanism, call it whatever sounds best. You can't be without me and you know it. Your mind knows it, your body knows it; _everyone_ knows it. This is the answer."

"Losing my mind?"

"We've spent the last seventy years doing that. If you're not able to hold your own by now, then you never will."

I nodded, taking a slow deep breath, The air felt warm as it rushed against the inside of my cold, dead lungs. "Alright. I'm out of my mind, but what the hell?"

I faced her properly, shifting so I could see her fully. My brain had spared no expense in recreating her. It was testament, I supposed, to how well I knew every single inch of her. Nothing was out of place, nothing was different. It _was_ Rosalie.

Frightening, really, how easily I was able to do that.

"You miss me," she said without preamble.

I laughed darkly. "A slight understatement. And not accurate."

"How so?"

"There aren't words for it, there never will be. I don't miss you, I don't love you. I can't say what it is, there just aren't words."

Another impatient sigh. "Waxing poetic is hardly the solution here, is it?"

I ignored her, finding that it was easier to speak now and for whatever reason, I suddenly _wanted_ to speak.

"I can't get used to the idea that I'll never see you again. I try and I try and then it just resets itself. I can't do it, can't get to grips with it."

"It's for the best though, right?" she echoed, using my own words.

I weighed that up, poking the scales of right and wrong. Nothing made sense, nothing was simple. "I don't know. It's all so relative. Best for who, best for what reason?"

"Best for the ones you love. For Bella. Emmett. Everyone."

I couldn't look at her. "Everyone except us."

"A little martyrdom can only be overdue, right? We owe them this, surely."

"But at what cost?" I breathed, throat constricted.

"At whatever cost necessary; isn't that right, love?"

I winced. "Don't call me that."

"Why?"

"It hurts too much, hearing you say things like that."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "But it's what you _want_ to hear. It's your mind, your show. You're in control."

I laughed, mirthlessly. It sounded more like a sob. "Oh yes, here I am. Paragon of control."

"You could stop this, if you really wanted to, you could make me vanish and never appear again. But the truth is," she added, leaning over the car and extending her fingertips. I froze, unspeakably terrified. Though I felt no pressure as those two fingertips trailed down my cheek, lemony sweet sensations shot straight to my spine, resonating in the base of my stomach. "That you don't want me to vanish. You're doing this because you need to see me. You need me as much as I need you, but we've messed things up too much to continue the way we were before, so we're reverting to what we do best. Making each other unhappy and desolate for the sake of others."

"Please," I begged hoarsely. "Stop..."

"But it won't last," she promised me. "We're not good enough, not virtuous enough. Eventually we'll crack, break down and give in. We always will."

My hand rose to my mouth of it's own volition. "What should I do?"

"Call me and beg me to come back."

I knew solidly for the first time that she wasn't really there; that it was a manifestation of my own mind, a part of me. Because _that_ was all I had wanted to do for the last week.

"I can't." The response was automatic.

"Ahh," she said with fond nostalgia. "Such familiar words. _'I can't.' 'We can't.' _Nothing so irresistible as that which you deny yourself."

"At least this way, I'm not betraying Bella," I tried desperately.

"Just yourself. And me."

"You wanted to go!"

"I almost lost my husband, drove my brother to the brink of insanity. What did you expect me to do?"

"Exactly this. I knew you'd leave, I knew it. It still didn't prepare me."

"For what? Why is it hard? It should be easier."

I could just about grasp the concept of this now. This was my mind playing Socrates. Talking me through it because I needed to, asking the right questions so I could learn the answers on my own. It didn't make it any less jarring.

"It's not," I said flatly. "It doesn't even feel like anything. I can barely feel anything at all. Like the actual sensation of touch is gone. Everything is only half formed. You'll pardon the hyperbole, but I'm torn in half. Ripped apart."

"So what's the answer? Hide away in Bella, use her as a shield? That's hardly fair to the poor girl, is it? She deserves more than that."

I frowned, somewhat thrown by that.

She shrugged. "Honey, it's your brain. I can be nice about Bella and not want to throw up in my mouth."

"Then tell me _what to do_."

"You already know," she said softly. "You just wish it wasn't true."

I ran a hand through my hair just for something to do with my shaking hands. "If I ask you to come back," I whispered, terrified that saying it too loud would make it real. "Then nothing will change. We'll betray the ones we love. Hurt each other, break each other apart."

"Only if you want it to be like that."

The bitterness was like bile in my throat. "Like we have a choice?"

"We always have choices, Edward. You know that."

"You didn't," I pointed out, unable to look away from her now. The shock was wearing off, my body and mind started to believe that she was really there. "When Carlisle turned you. You never had a choice."

"If I'd really wanted to die, I could have stayed inside the burning building with Royce King," she shrugged off easily. "If I'd really wanted to die, I wouldn't have come back to you. I _chose_ to come back to you. I'll always come back to you."

"Because you're crazy," I muttered.

"No more than you."

"In that respect I suppose we quite deserve one another, don't we? Equally matched in insanity, as well as everything else."

"Not everything," she pointed out thoughtfully, her eyes sliding upwards. "My hair, for instance, is vastly prettier than yours. I mean really, who ever heard of a vampire using hair gel?"

"Rosalie," I managed not to snap. Saying her name sent a bolt of something cold and frighteningly pleasurable down my spine, resounding in my lower back. "Please, just tell me what to do. I know you're just a part of my mind, something I need to verbalise with, so you can drop the Socratic method, alright? You're me...you're just _me_ and I probably do know what the answer is here so stop being cryptic and just tell me what I should do."

For the first time in a long time, I saw her face shape into something resembling respect. "You want the truth?"

"Always."

"Yes, I know. It's such a flaw." She sighed, but held my eyes as she began to speak. "Alright, the truth is that you're falling to pieces without me. No matter how much you might claim to hate me, hate what we're doing to out family...you can't live without me. Neither can I. We've grown into one another, twisted and bled right into the centre of who we are. We're too closely intertwined now, we can't be apart like this. Something as simple as knowing that I'm miles away, is destroying you. Even if we can't be that close, can't touch or kiss...we need to be nearby. I'm a stabilising force in your life and it's too late to make a new one, no matter how much you might love and adore Bella. She can't replace me the same way Emmett can't replace you. It's too late now and trying to break what lies between us at this late stage of the game is only going to obliterate what little strength and happiness we have. It was the wrong decision, made with the best intentions and you need to get me back here, fast."

I exhaled sharply, her words seemed to have a physical impact upon me.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't trust yourself? I understand. We're not exactly trustworthy people, are we? Matter of fact, I wouldn't trust my own judgement either. But if you want a second opinion, look around you. Look at our family; Carlisle, Esme, Alice...even Jasper – they all know what needs to happen here. You've heard their thoughts, you know what they think."

"I still can't do it."

A calculative pause, and then "Because of me. You think this is better for me."

I closed my eyes, unable to admit that aloud.

"Well," she fairly chuckled. "Consistent, if nothing else."

"It's for the best," I said, not realising I was saying it until it had passed my lips. "For the best."

"For who?" she asked rhetorically, for there was no doubting the answer now.

"For you," I gasped. "Better for you. I want...I_ do_ want to be faithful to Bella, it's not a lie, but...I want, more than anything else, for you to be happy. Emmett can do that, he can make you happy. Together, you two can be happy. Free of all this insanity, all this treachery. I saw your face when you lied to him, I heard your heart break...that's my doing. Your heart should _never_ make that kind of sound, you shouldn't have to do that. I can't make you happy, so it's for the best that you stay away."

There was a long stretch of silence, during which I thought she might have vanished, but when I opened my eyes, my peripheral vision caught her and I knew she was still there. Somehow, on a very questionable level, that was comforting.

"So noble," she murmured finally. "So wonderfully, moronically noble."

I cracked an unwilling smile, tasting tears as I did.

"I don't care. If this is the price I pay for knowing that you're happy and safe and at peace then I don't care. I can't speak to you on the phone because I know I'll beg you to come back and I can't do that to you. I won't betray you like that, I won't."

"You don't think maybe it's destroying me too?"

"No," I shook my head vehemently. "It's not. You were always stronger than me, you love Emmett. You've been with him so long, you two are so amazing together and I know you're coping. You're the strong one, not me."

"But what if I'm not? What if being away from you is killing me just as much as it's killing you?"

"If that were true, which I don't believe it is, then yes...I'd ask you to come back. But that won't happen. This is the right thing to do, I know it."

"The same way you _knew_ you could stay away from Bella?"

My teeth ground together. "This is different."

"How?"

"Because you're the only thing I _ever_ know about! You're the only thing that makes sense, the only thing in this whole world that I can ever be sure about. It has to be the best thing, it is."

"If you're so sure, then why am I here?"

"Because I miss you. I need you, bad enough that my body and mind will create this as a substitute to keep me sane long enough to remember why we did this in the first place."

More contemplative silence; I felt more tears stroll leisurely down my cheeks, dripping off my chin. They made a small, odd little noise as they hit my thighs.

"Alright," she finally sighed, sounding resigned to the whole thing. "I can see your reasoning, I really can. And like you said, unless the situation was destroying me too, then it's selfish to disturb my happiness just to gratify your own needs. Misplaced chivalry strikes again."

I wiped away the tears with my sleeve, trying to regain some sense of composure.

"You're leaving," I pointed out unnecessarily.

"Baby, I'm already gone."

And she was.

* * *

That night I made a special effort to join in with my family; to laugh and smile and gently prod and tease. We told stories of the past, well worn tales by now, but still entertaining. We tried to be careful not to mention anything directly involving Rose or Emmett, but it was unavoidable and when I was the first one to do so, Carlisle smiled at me and Esme visibly relaxed.

It was another beautiful night outside, so we dragged extra chairs out onto the veranda and sat for hours, just talking and laughing. Alice and I sat on the porch swing together, her head leaning on my shoulder while we reminisced about the past. It was lovely; I felt so peaceful, almost happy. It was as though the world outside was a dream and this was how things were supposed be.

So lost in the lovely, selected memories we were discussing, that I barely even picked up on Alice's prickle of thought. Her mind's equivalent of a small tilt of the head. An image, or more accurately a sound, appearing in her mind.

Everyone looked towards me as signals in the air flooded at my cell, only moment before it rang.

Alice's small thought solidified and grew.

I knew it was Emmett before I answered. The warmth of the night vanished, replace by cold fear. Why was he ringing me directly?

"Hey Em," I greeted as casually as possible. Jasper briefly considered using his powers to calm me down, but dismissed the idea almost instantly. I shook his thoughts from my head, focusing on the cell pressed against my ear. "You want me to put you on speakerphone? I'm here with everyone."

"No," he said and something in that made my already cold, dead blood turn to ice. "I need to speak to you. Alone."

The evident seriousness in his voice drove me to my feet, walking away from my family and towards the bottom end of the vast, beautiful yard.

"What's wrong?" I asked, barely able to keep it together.

He took a deep breath; I couldn't even breathe. "I know this is crazy and I'm out of my mind for even asking it but..."

"But what?" I asked, my fingertips numb, threatening to let the device slip through my fingers.

"I need you to talk to Rose. I need you to tell her that it's OK for us to come back, because she doesn't believe me and the only way she'll know that she's not doing you some huge favour in staying away, is if _you_ tell her. Edward? You there? Did you hear me, Edward? I need you to tell her to come back, before she completely falls apart!"

*

**A/N** – To start, this part _".... the __opposite of love wasn't hatred; it was apathy; indifference. If this was true, then it was blindingly obvious that the decades of acrimony between Rosalie and Edward made no sense whatsoever...." _was taken and paraphrased from my amazing TLYDF rec because it was brilliantly phrased and very concise. I think it's OK to use it, if not someone yell at me and I shall rephrase.

Again, I'm sorry for the delay. However, I think this is going to be the rhythm of things from now on as this chapter is also 50 pages long. This was much more fun to write, though. I hope the wait wasn't too long, I'll try and work harder in future if anyone's now a pile of bleached bones.

So...what did you think? We know the drill here people, I am a hungry, ravenous beast who must be fed reviews. Review, review, review!!!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, I scream my love for you all at the top of a moderately high building. Seriously though, you're beautiful amazing people.

Cough*review*cough!

Bex

X X X X


	36. Chapter 36: Checkmate

**-Chapter Thirty Six: Checkmate-**

'_Inside-out, upside-down,  
Twisting beside myself.  
Stop that now.  
You're as close as it gets  
Without touching me.  
Oh now don't make it harder  
Than it already is.  
I feel a weakness coming on.'_

_-Imogen Heap_

**-Rosalie-**

The fight that followed the smashing of Emmett's cell phone, had been one of the worst in our history together. I supposed I could have been more diplomatic in communicating my unwillingness to speak to Edward, but my wonderful, patient husband just _shoving_ the cell in my face...well, it hadn't contributed to my already non-existent temper. Bad enough I'd had to listen to Emmett telling Edward how much I was _'falling apart'_ without him (which I was, let's face facts here...one does not _hallucinate_ a being when separated by an ocean if one is mentally stable), but to then be expected to speak with him...it could not be borne.

In the end, it hadn't been Edward who convinced me to return to Forks, it had been Emmett. During the terrible fight we had, in which we said horrible, cutting things (so unlike us as a couple), he pleaded with me to see sense and realise that my martyrdom wasn't the least bit necessary. He told me that I wasn't just hurting myself, I was hurting him too. More wonderful irony, once again.

We packed up a few of our things, most of them I was happy to leave behind, and caught an early flight to a nearby area the next evening. After some bouncing around on various night flights, we returned. He made me swear that we would never fight like that again, a promise I was only too relieved to make, and that we would never tell anyone about it. We kissed in the Washington drizzle, outside the depressing little airport of Forks before we went back to them all.

Life had taken on a regimented structure; each moment of the day planned in my mind, each action pre-approved by whichever part of me produced common sense. This was a condition I had set myself as soon as the wheels of the plane had hit the cold, wet ground of Forks. That we had returned did not necessarily mean that things would go back to normal. They wouldn't. I would not allow it. Spontaneity and carelessness were luxuries I could not afford. Everything was premeditated now. Nothing left to chance.

Though it had taken many decades to perfect, I knew that this was something I was capable of; this kind of strength. The kind of strength that would allow me to breathe through such pain that might drive a human to it's knees. This situation that would undoubtedly shatter the fragile mind of a lesser being, I could endure it. Endure the agony, the madness and the swirling, furious heartache (for sheer lack of a better word) that a human might quite literally die of.

Emmett hadn't understood at first, but something in him seemed to come to terms with it after the first day. He would ask me, what was wrong? Why didn't I want to join in with everyone? I had no explanations for him, but I refused to lie. So I'd shrugged and smiled, more often than not pulling him in for a kiss that would make him smile, but could not chase the edge of concern from his lovely eyes.

But...despite all this, it _was_ better; that much was obvious despite the fact we had only been back two days. Even living in such a limited, prison-like state of mind, it was better than being so far away from _him_. We rarely ever spoke, we never touched, I had yet to see him in anything but passing – still, it didn't matter. He was nearby and that was sufficient to satisfy whatever primal, utterly unfathomable need within us both. A basic need, almost at a cellular level - it remained beyond my comprehension. But it's demand was uncompromising and we had both failed to disobey it. Any other person might have been overwhelmed with hopelessness; a sense of no control in their own life, but instead I was resigned to it. After so long existing within the same paradigm I could hardly begin to fall apart now. It was simply another aspect of the half life we strived, and always failed, to avoid.

He remained the forbidden counterpart of my soul...my _self_.

Only now I was trying to be a good person. Admittedly, it was a change of pace, considering my track record. I wasn't signing myself up for volunteer organisations, I wasn't giving large sums of my money to charities (though Carlisle and Esme _always_ did), I wasn't even going to be nicer to Bella when I saw her at this party tonight.

No, instead I was trying desperately to carve out a rhythm for life that did not involve such abhorrent betrayal.

I looked down at the mess I had made with the pen. Trembling fingers weren't the best choice for writing Hallmark cards. It seemed greatly unfair, but not cosmically unexpected, that I would end up having to write Bella's birthday card from Emmett and myself. I looked down at the mess I'd made of the otherwise flawlessly clean, white card and a shock went through me.

_Dear Bella, Happy Birthday. _

_Lots of love, Rosalie and Edward._

I stared open mouthed at the stupid, obvious and potentially devastating mistake and seriously questioned my own sanity. How the hell had that happened? What was wrong with me? Was there some sick, masochistic part of me that _wanted_ this to all blow up in my face? Yes, there was a similarity between the names Emmett and Edward. But an 'E' and six letters in the name wasn't enough to forgive the transgression.

I stared hard at the two names, close together. Those names were never meant to be synonymous. Never written together. Never.

In one swift motion I rose from the kitchen table, straight to the sink. I tore the card into tiny pieces, no bigger than my fingernails, and then rinsed them down the drain, watching them swirl away into oblivion.

My fingers were wet and shaking, but I tried and succeeded in pulling myself together very quickly.

No-one missed me in the time that I purchased another card for the dreaded event in the upcoming hours. If Emmett noticed that the card wasn't the one he had originally picked out, he didn't comment. He kissed me and congratulated me on having the emotional maturity to write a greetings card. Kissing followed it's natural course of progression and I found myself all too willing to become lost in his embrace, his kisses, his touch, the feel of his body flush against my own. The beautiful familiarity, the overflowing love and lightness...it was almost enough to clear my mind of those two words, those two names that should never, _would_ never, be side by side in anything but dispute.

But before we could even get close to removing a single item of clothing, Esme was calling us all downstairs to help Alice with the preparations for this forsaken party. Emmett laughed, resting his forehead against mine, our noses just shy of brushing.

"Timing, as always," he muttered, kissing me again with a sense of finality.

"Can't we..." I faltered, my throat sticking for a moment. I was more out of breath than I'd realised. "Can't we just blow this party off?"

His features turned serious and he pulled away a little. I was wrapped around him, quite literally. My arms and legs encircling him as he held me pressed against the wall outside of our room. Because he pulled away, I was forced to let go and regain equilibrium. I stood up, feeling dizzy and disorientated, but it passed quickly. I kept my arms around his neck as though he was a lifeline to somewhere constant. Which he was.

"Babe," he said, firmly. "We're going."

I couldn't stop it. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes, just managing to remain light-hearted. "Because Edward is our brother, and because Bella's important to him. Isn't that enough?"

Oh yes. That was plenty. _Our brother_.

I could see that the easiest thing to do in order to quickly diffuse a potentially explosive situation, was simply to acquiesce to the common decency of what he was saying. For once, I forced myself to do exactly that. I owed Emmett so much, most of which could never be repaid, but this...I could do this, I supposed. I could make his life that much easier. I could attend the 'party' and even do so without being overly difficult about it.

"You're right," I agreed with a shrug. "Don't get used to hearing it or anything, but you're right. I'm being a baby, I guess."

Judging from the way his eyebrows shot up into his hairline, it certainly wasn't what he was expecting me to say. "Well...that's...great," he managed lamely. "Really, I'm proud."

Hand in hand, we went together to contribute combined efforts towards Alice's ridiculously overenthusiastic plans for Bella's birthday party. This was the way things would be from now on. This was how it had to be. _Brother_. He could only be a brother to me now, nothing more.

I ignored the screaming outrage that welled up inside of me at such a notion, and with a smile helped blow up balloons and fill crystal bowls with water and flowers, in honour of the girl my _brother_ so loved.

* * *

I had known from the very birth of the idea that it would be hellish, but still my imagination had not come quite close enough to touching upon the reality.

Hellish...it was beyond hellish.

Celebrating life and mortality was most certainly not my idea of a good time _anyway._ We, as a family, were biologically dead. We had died, endured death, ceased to circulate within the mortal coil. Birthdays were not exactly a popular celebration by anyone's standards, especially not by mine.

Especially not when the birthday in concern belonged to Isabella Swan. Though I did not dislike her as much as I was forced to exude, I certainly wasn't brimming with reasons why I wanted to celebrate her birth and general existence in this world.

Add to that awful popular music, streamers, balloons and _food_...hellish fell startlingly short to full depict the churning horror within me.

Waiting for she and Edward to arrive, I realised I wasn't the only one who felt this way. Judging by the way Jasper stood to one side, leaning against a darkened, shadowy wall, he was about as enthused as I was. Our eyes caught across the space between us and he smiled a small smile, rolling his eyes minutely. I felt a wave of affection brush over me; the mental equivalent of an affectionate wink or a causal hug.

Jasper's concurrence of my feelings was reassuring, but he and I were the only ones not caught up in the frenzied excitement. Alice was in her element like I hadn't seen her in years. Esme was almost as excited, only overshadowed by Alice's bounding delight that she had a new sister to shower with affection in the endless human ways that would be meaningless to one of us. Emmett was obviously pleased to be here for both Bella and Edward. I knew he liked Bella; he wouldn't deny it or lie to reassure me, he just hadn't announced it officially. Yet. I wondered why it didn't feel like a betrayal.

Edward, what little I had seen of him in the last two days, was also excited. Excited in that pathetic, angsty, _'but-what-if-something-bad-happens-while-she's-opening-presents?' _kind of way. He continued to struggle with the duality of his sentiments towards her. It was obvious; he loved her, needed her, adored her...but equally he wanted to protect her and a part of him knew that staying wasn't exactly the way to ensure nothing bad happened to her.

Amused, I pondered how that would be viewed from an exterior perspective. _Absolute Needy Love_ Vs. _It's For The Best_. She was forbidden, delicate and fragile...he could accidentally kill her at any moment, but if he was strong enough and brave enough then maybe they could have their amazing love could blossom. It was almost predictable; a cliché in many ways.

"Rose," Emmett's voice sent me reeling back to reality with a 'SNAP!'.

"Hmm?" I asked, shaking my head to clear it.

"Can you hang these please?" he asked, handing me garlands made with real flowers. White lilies and magenta zinnias. I was surprised they weren't roses, in keeping with the otherwise singular floral theme. I knew deep down that Alice meant nothing by it, using thousands of roses to celebrate the birthday of Edward's true love, but it irritated me on a small, petty level.

These particular flowers were ice cold, frozen overnight; I could only wonder how and where Alice had accomplished this, as we most certainly did not own a refrigerator.

"Sure," I said with what I hoped was a natural smile. "Why aren't they already hung? They'll be here soon."

"Alice forgot, Edward's stalling as much as he can."

"Alice forgot?" I echoed, incredulously as Emmett hoisted me up on one hand so I could reach the ceiling and string the beautiful decorations all along the fairy lights already in place. "How did that happen?"

"She's been a little distracted with Jazz," he told me, walking along casually as I balanced perfectly on his open palm with one foot. "He should have hunted."

"Standing right here," Jasper pointed out equitably, waving from across the room.

"Oh right. Jasper, you should have gone hunting."

"I'm fine," was his short, unconvincing reply.

Finished with the last minute chore, I hopped down neatly and resumed my place, leaning against a doorway. "Anything else?"

"Probably, knowing Alice," he replied with a lopsided grin. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

"This old thing?" I replied playfully.

He leaned in closer, his hand coming up to cup my face and trace his thumb over my lips but just as he was about to kiss me, Alice's chirping voice sounded through the house.

"They're here! They're here! Positions everyone!"

"What, are we supposed to be in alphabetical order or something?" Emmett mumbled, pulling away again with a brief, apologetic kiss on the cheek and the promise of '_later'_ in his eyes.

Edward's sudden presence in the house sent thousands of little messages darting all over my body, useless instincts and wasted impulses. I shrugged them off, willing my mind towards neutrality. It was times like these I wished I had the ability to meditate. I knew Jasper could because he had tried to teach me, but my mind was always whirring a million miles a minute. Never quiet, never still. Inner peace didn't seem like something I was about to achieve any time soon, but still...it would have been useful just then.

The only thing that would help me now, was my ability to retreat inwards. I could shut out a large portion of this night with a little work. If I kept the primary controls on autopilot, I could allow my mind to drift elsewhere.

Greetings commenced; hugs and kisses all around for Miss Swan. I watched her distantly, able to achieve that necessary neutrality. She looked at me once and then away hastily, intimated regardless.

Edward looked at me, nodding in acknowledgement. I nodded back, marvelling at the sheer mastery of our outward deceptions.

His attentions quickly resumed their primary focus. He was so close to her all the time; hovering over her as if death might befall her at any given moment. Tragic, really, that the container of his happiness was such a fragile, breakable little thing.

Emmett was chatting easily to her, proving my earlier theory that he genuinely liked Bella.

"You haven't changed at all," he was saying with mock disappointment. "I

expected a perceptible difference, but here you are, red-faced just like always."

"Thanks a lot, Emmett," she replied, blushing deeper. I hated that she smelled of such fresh, mouth-watering blood. Though I was mercifully free of whatever heightened fixation Edward had concerning her scent, she still smelled....good.

He laughed pleasantly, obviously trying to make bridges on behalf of his standoffish wife. "I have to step out for a second, don't do anything funny while I'm gone." He left to install the present we had finally decided to get her. Selecting a gift for Bella had been difficult to say the least. Especially considering it was coming from Jasper, Emmett and myself – arguably the three who liked her the least. A car stereo had seemed like a sufficiently detached but useful gift.

Another glance in Jasper's direction and I caught another miniscule, almost invisible version of an eye-roll. He seemed as bored and as duty bound as I was. It was reassuring, mostly. But the circles under his eyes were worrying. He _should_ have hunted before attending.

I wished I could leave. Though Alice had spent hours planning this, and even longer in the general execution of her plans (only Alice could make a human's birthday party into an extravagant, highly expensive three ring circus), I was desperate to be somewhere, anywhere else. I felt somewhat claustrophobic all of a sudden, everything was too bright, too clustered. My attempts to retreat inward were failing because Edward was there, in the room. I was caught fully in the atmosphere, forced to endure God only knew how many hours in this childish masquerade.

But I took a deep, steadying breath, counted to ten and then carried on. It had to be endured; another necessary evil.

Alice announced that it was time to open presents, despite the fact that Bella had only just removed her coat. She guided her over to the table with delighted intent. I cracked a smile at the right moment when the 'joke' about the car stereo came out, while everyone laughed. Bella thanked us all verbally, reeling off our names from the tag.

When she said my name, for some reason, Edward's eyes snapped unexpectedly onto mine. I felt it instantly and my eyes went straight to his, drawn like magnets.

My breath caught in my chest, jarring and terrifying. Only moments ago I could have slipped into a coma from boredom, but now every part of my body was alive, alert and dangerously thrumming with liquid electricity. He didn't look away, either. He was staring at me so strangely, almost...almost to check I was real. To make himself believe I was really there.

Then it was gone, he looked away and I was left breathless and shaken. Bella's words had pulled his attention from me, thankfully, before my brilliant plans of detachment and loyalty disintegrated.

Emmett came back and I forced my attention onto him, Jasper moved a little closer, seemingly to get a better look at the gift from Alice and Edward, but I knew it was a secret show of solidarity. A tiny, otherwise invisible display of a reassurance.

"I didn't spend a dime," he promised her soothingly. Then, as if to make a point to me, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of her hair away, his fingertips tracing her skin. My back teeth ground together, but my face remained neutrally impassive. A feat, if I did say so myself.

And then, quite unexpectedly, the situation went from being hellishly dull to actual hell.

I heard, as did we all, the razor edge of the paper slice the flesh open. In the microsecond it took for oxygen to mingle with the previously blue blood, the essence of it was on the back of my tongue...in my mouth and I had to grind down on the instinctive, overwhelming desire to have that blood, to _know_ that taste.

All too late I realised what would happen next.

I knew I should have moved, should have tried to stop him but I just didn't. It wasn't malicious intent, it wasn't grave curiosity to see Bella torn apart...it was just blank, helpless inertia.

Everything happened very fast, though I was able to see it all perfectly. Edward throwing Bella backwards, into the table covered with glass bowls and plates. Jasper lunging forward, trying to get to Bella in order to rip her to pieces and drown himself in the blood we were all tantalised by. Edward then slamming bodily into Jasper, knocking him backwards...hard.

Emmett was immediately behind Jasper and his strong arms locked him securely into place. Jasper continued to fight to get to the source of the blood.

The blood...it was everywhere. I felt myself drawn unbidden into it's thrall. My mouth filled with venom, my teeth itched to know the ripping of flesh, to bathe in that delicious warmth.

Bella looked from her arm up at us all...terrified. For once, I saw real, genuine fear there in her eyes. Her mortality seemed very tangible then.

Carlisle's voice was shaken. "Emmett, Rose, get Jasper outside."

Emmett snapped into action, bearing the brunt of Jasper's struggles. I was forced to put my hand to my mouth and over my nose to stop the overpowering lure of her blood from reaching the primitive part of my brain.

Jasper was snapping and clawing for anything now, desperate to get at her luscious blood. I hated seeing him in such a way; he had _enough_ to deal with, without this.

Before leaving the room, I turned to Edward, crouched down by Bella in a protective, animalistic stance. I aimed the thought directly at him, loud and clear.

'_What did you really expect, Edward?'_

The wildness faltered only for a moment, I saw hurt in those eyes I knew too well, before it vanished altogether. Bella was looking at me; probably assuming I was thinking something nasty about her.

My husband and I managed to drag poor Jasper outside into the cool night air. He was hyperventilating, struggling...but he was weaker now. I wondered if this was what Edward had been forced to do with Emmett. I knew the story, of course, but Emmett had never been specific. Some things belonged between brothers.

"It's alright," he was telling Jasper, still keeping him in his iron grip. "Calm down!"

We took him to the very bottom end of the yard, as far from the house as possible. Emmett never let go of him for one second, while I stayed alert and ready should he somehow get free and attempt to go back inside and kill her.

Which would have been oh so tragic.

Accompanying the nasty slivery of icy guilt at the base of my spine, something else began to prickle in my mind. A sense of De Ja Vu. This scene seemed very familiar. The whole set up; the paper-cut, Jasper trying to kill her...

I ignored it for the time being, trying to maintain focus on current events.

"Jasper!" I said, trying to get him to look into my eyes. "Jasper, look at me! Take deep breaths, clear your mind...it's going to pass, you'll see."

After another agonisingly long minute, it did. The shuddering slowed into stillness and the wildness in his eyes was replaced with bitter self loathing and shame. Emmett kept hold of him, but adjusted his arms so it wasn't quite so painful for either of them. I hadn't moved from the space in front of him.

"There, see?" Emmett said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "It's fine. It's all fine. Jesus, Jazz – you got it bad. Fifty years and still as dangerous as ever. Gotta say I don't envy you, bro."

Emmett attempt at lightening the thick, heavyset atmosphere didn't quite fall flat, but it didn't seem to penetrate Jasper in any way at all.

"He'll never forgive me," he muttered finally, eyes tight shut and facing downwards.

"Of course he will," I answered easily. "You're his brother."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Which is what compared to her?"

I had nothing to say to that, so I just took his hand in mine and held it tight. He squeezed it back, hard. Emmett looked at our intertwined hands and then gave me a small, sad smile.

Bella's almost-death had the three of us united once again. Only a few months ago we had all stood at one of a room not far from where we stood now, and declared it for the best that she die. We three had campaigned for it, insisted that it was the best way to proceed. We had suggested her death in calm, collected tones; mercifully, considerately. But her death, nonetheless, had been our ambition.

To see us now, struggling to keep her alive...irony didn't quite cover it.

Another minute of silence and then we all sensed Edward coming. Maybe I sensed it first, but I didn't react until the others did. Jasper looked wretched, ashamed.

"Is she alright?" Jasper asked before Edward had even reached us.

"She's fine," he replied warily. I knew, without having to turn and see it, that he was surveying the situation. "Carlisle's taking care of her."

"I'm sorry," Jasper said without preamble. "I'm so sorry."

Edward walked right past me, to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know, I know you didn't mean to do it." Something sounded a little broken, fractured perhaps. He was more shaken than he seemed.

"It's no excuse," Jasper spat with abundant self loathing. "I'm weak, a disgrace."

"No," I countered sharply. "You're not. We were all tempted; if you'd hunted today you would have been fine."

Edward looked at me, his lips in a tight line. I knew he was reading my mind, trying to discern what my angle on this would be.

'_Reassuring my brother is my angle,'_ I thought directly at him, forcing it into neutrality.

Something...uncertainty perhaps....was flickering through him. "Don't blame yourself," he said to Jasper, though he was still looking at me for the first two words. "Like Rosalie said, you haven't hunted. That's all."

Nothing to do with the fact that Jasper still indulged in human blood from time to time. Nothing at all.

"Exactly," Emmett offered firmly. "Accidents happen, man."

I was about to verbally agree, when Edward said, quite out of the blue, "Rosalie, can I speak to you, please?"

The terseness and urgency underlying his words left me speechless, except to nod. He gave Jasper another reassuring pat on the shoulder, thanking Emmett before he walked briskly to the other corner of the vast yard, close to the tree we had once nearly destroyed together.

"What is it?" I asked as he came to a stop, back facing me.

Silence filled the air, heavy and dense. It seemed as though he was struggling with the choice of what exactly to say. His hesitation was like nails on a chalkboard to me, grating through meticulously structured walls of protective tranquillity. My fingers curled and twitched as he took long, obviously necessary seconds to decide upon his words.

_Words_. How I hated words. A filtering mechanism, stripping away the truth of what lay inside. Never fully accurate, never able to communicate the endless layer of complexities and clauses that comprised of any genuine feeling. A stupid, human accomplishment and I'd never despised it quite so much as those moments as I watched him struggle to find a way to work within the boundaries that they created. He didn't need to use them, that was what irked me so. The particular hunch of tension in his shoulder blades, the rigidity of his neck and the violent trembling of his fingertips spoke volumes of what he needed to, but could not, say to me.

He settled for the obvious choice, after agonising moments had passed us by.

"She nearly died, Rose," he whispered. "She nearly died."

It took vast quantities of self control not to say what I genuinely wanted to; I was only too aware of my husband and our brother (the only brother I really had) standing close by.

"But she didn't," I said, controlled and measured. "She'll be fine. A few stitches, some band aids. Nothing unusual for her, so I gather. Edward," I added, because I could see where this was headed and he needed to stop it. Someone needed to stop him. "It was _going_ to happen eventually. She's going to bleed sometimes. We just need to be better prepared for it."

A part of me marvelled at my levelheadedness. Another part cursed it.

He shook his head, I turned away a little because I knew too intimately the way that hair felt moving beneath my fingers and it would not do for Emmett to hear my breath stolen away. "How can we be prepared for it? We're _vampires_ for Christ's sake! What am I doing, Rose? What am I doing?" The double entendre was staggering.

He turned and hit me with the full force of his stare; intense and blinding as it never was in front of others. A fresh surge of panic rose up because my husband wasn't far away enough that our interactions were in any way private. Edward was wide open; the guile and coldness torn apart in the heat of adrenaline and painful reality. If he was human, I would have said he was in shock.

The thought formed helplessly in my mind.

'_What did you expect?'_

His face crumpled a little, hurt. "I didn't expect her to die at the hands of someone I love! I didn't expect that!"

"Don't you dare blame Jasper," I warned, voice low and forcibly controlled. "And she didn't die! She's alive, damnit!"

"For how long? How long before it happens again? Before I...I wanted it so badly, Rose. I could _taste_ her all over again, like in Phoenix. There was a split second when I thought...I just thought..."

Were we alone, I would have yanked him into my arms. It was what he needed, why he had stupidly dragged me over here. He needed comforting, telling that everything was going to be alright as long as he got it together. He needed to be held together before he fell apart. Held close and allowed to be weak for just a few moments before he could be strong again. It broke me apart that when he was seriously hurt or shaken, his first real instinct was to come to me.

But we couldn't do that. We could never do that again.

Something shifted in his features, as if I'd hurt him without cause or warning. He took a step backwards, gaining some control over himself. I suspected he was counting to ten, as I often did.

"What should I do?" he asked quietly after a minute.

"Go and take care of her," I managed. "She needs you."

He snorted viciously. "Oh yeah, she'd fall apart without me in her life," he spat to himself, sweeping past me without another word. I stayed there, composing myself for a few more seconds, desperately trying not to think aloud until he had gone, that Bella was not the only one.

* * *

In the space of four hours the atmosphere in the house had gone from warm excitement (for some of us) to icy cold apprehension. The house seemed exactly that; a house, not a _home_ anymore. Though no-one was speaking about it, we (excluding Alice and Jasper, who had gone to hunt for the next few days) were all waiting for Edward to return from Bella's, it seemed a distinct possibility that we would be leaving soon.

I had seen Edward more emotionally compromised than this, but I had never seen him this shaken up in front of everyone else. Something was wrong and we all knew what.

Alice and I had taken the decorations down very quickly; it seemed such a waste to throw the flowers away, but it wasn't as though Edward would appreciate seeing them if and when he returned tonight.

Restless and brimming with anxiety, I changed clothes, flinging the expensive dress into a corner and yanking on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt. It didn't help. My hands itched and twitched for something constructive to do, to work on. There was nothing to be done until he arrived.

More than once, Carlisle's hand strayed towards his cell phone and I knew he wanted to call Edward as much as I did. He stopped himself every time, not wishing to intrude upon whatever was happening between them as a couple. I knew what it took for him not to call his first son; I could sense the depths of his anxiety.

Edward didn't come back until 2am. We were all sitting in the same room waiting for him and we all jumped up at the same time upon hearing him enter the house from an upstairs window, to change clothes as was his 'Staying Over At Bella's' routine.

"Edward," Carlisle called up the stairs. It was all he needed to say. After a few minutes of silence, during which I _knew_ he was trying to pull himself together, he came downstairs, in different attire. He radiated something indefinable; danger, loathing, despair.

"Alright then," he said, as we gathered in the hallway. "We need to talk about what we're going to do."

Carlisle nodded understandingly. "How is she?"

Something dark crossed his face, like a shadow. "She'll be fine," he answered. "Because this won't happen again."

It came as no surprise whatsoever. We were all ready for it, prepared to pack up and leave as we had done so many times before.

Esme put her hand on his arm, supporting and loving as ever. "When do you want to leave?"

"As soon as possible," he replied, his tone a harsh shade of grey. "The sooner the better."

"Yeah," Emmett said, probably just to contribute something. "Are you going to come with us or stay a while?"

His lips tightened again. "I'll stay a day or so after you leave to...to make sure she understands."

I was partly amazed that no-one was stating the blindingly obvious here. In fact, I could feel it about to bubble past my lips simply _because_ no-one was saying it.

"Don't mind me pointing out a rather fatal flaw in all this," I began, as everyone turned to me with a pained expression, expecting the worst. Emmett coughed beside me, elbowing me unsubtly. I ignored him and continued. "But you've tried to do this before; tried to leave her and, as I recall, it didn't exactly have the desired outcome."

He glared mutely at me. "What are you saying?"

"You can't live without her, that's what I'm saying. Maybe you should stop and seriously think what you're about to do before you cut your nose off to spite your face!"

"_Rosalie_," Carlisle warned, sharper than I'd heard in years. "It is Edward's decision."

"That we'll have to live with," I pointed out. "You love her, Edward. Let's not just dismiss that fact because she got a Godamned paper cut!"

Emmett made an incredulous sound beside me, obviously stunned at the position I had taken. Esme seemed troubled, affected by my words.

"She's right, darling," she said to Edward. "Maybe you should think about it for a few weeks."

But Edward had eyes for no-one but me and not in a good way. "Bit of a 180 for you, isn't it, Rosalie?" he asked voice dangerous and cold.

"I'm just saying that you don't walk away from love because there's a chance things might not go the way you want!"

_What _was I _doing? _This was my chance, I should have been screaming with joy. He was going to leave her, leave Forks. It was all on the brink of being over, forever. He would be _mine_ again, even if we never could touch one another in anything but accidental, platonic occurrences.

Yet there was something inside of me that would not stand idly by and let him do this to himself. Despite what it cost me to admit it, he did love her and she loved him so much...I couldn't let him rip himself apart like this, not if he wasn't certain.

His jaw worked as he read my mind. His fists were curled tight by his sides; wound tight with tension and God knew what else.

"The way I want?" he echoed, trembling with fury. "She nearly died!"

I braced myself for some serious retaliation, even in the presence of our parents and my husband. "She's a human! She will die! You know this, you refuse to change her and so a part of you must accept it on some level!"

I'd hurt him, I knew it. He hid it well.

"Death is natural for humans, yes. But she shouldn't die like this, not so young, not at the hands of ones she has come to love!"

"So you'll do what? Back away gracefully and let her die alone? Without the person she loves most in the world?"

His upper lip curled in a sneer. "I didn't know you cared so much about her."

Bluntly, I replied, "I care about you."

Carlisle sighed and ran a hand through his hair while Edward turned away in what seemed like disgust, but – to my horribly attuned senses – was something else entirely.

"Rosalie," Carlisle said with familiar resignation. "Despite your feelings, this is between Edward and Bella. We know you care, but this isn't the way to go about it."

But he was wrong, wrong, _wrong_. This was what Edward needed and no-one knew it. He needed to shout, curse and vent his frustration and self hatred. He would just direct it inwardly if left to his own devices. He needed someone to yell at him and make him see sense before he got too high up on his tower. Only I couldn't give him that. Not now. I could only be a sister to my 'brother' and nothing more.

The conversation veered off after that, probably because I refused to say anything else. I couldn't understand why I felt so annoyed with him for throwing away his only chance of genuine happiness, but the feeling grew and grew to such an extent that Emmett grew concerned. Ten minutes or so after Edward had left, in a less than genial mood, he suggested that I go and join Alice and Jasper hunting. They hadn't gotten very far and it wouldn't take more than half an hour to join them on foot. I was extremely thirsty by this point, we all were after being exposed to such amounts of human blood (except Carlisle, of course). I asked if Emmett would come with me, but he said he would stay and help Carlisle and Esme start packing.

I kissed him before I left and he whispered in my ear how he was proud of me.

Proud of me for _what_?

The night was damp and dreary, the scent of fresh rain not far off. I could have driven, but I wanted to walk. I wanted to feel the earth beneath my bare feet, the wind hitting my icy, impervious skin, rushing through my hair.

Black tendrils of thought curled and twined inside my mind, brushing against one another every now and then. The cold wind against my colder skin was not sufficient to soothe those curving, arching contemplations. Too many factors were changing, about to change...already changed. Too much, too soon with no time or room to compensate for what this could mean.

Though I was lost in tangled, complex thoughts and deliberations, I should have sensed it. Immortal sensed were astoundingly sharp. There was no excuse for it, yet I was distracted and confused by my own actions – so much stronger than I would have thought myself capable of and so my supreme vampire senses weren't at the forefront of my mind where should have been.

By the time I _did_ sense him, it was all too late.

I took a deep, lung filling breath and closed my eyes trying to find that centre again. "Edward," I said very clearly into the cold, impartial night. "Go. Away."

He moved into a sparse patch of moonlight and though there was no face I was more familiar with (including my own) the sight of him drew a gasp from my throat. He was terrifying; truly, monstrously, frightening as I had never seen him before.

His eyes were drowning in darkness; shadows and circles of nameless hungers and desires. The pallor he usually wore had been replaced by a sheer white translucency. His lips were parted, revealing those teeth we all strove to conceal from humanity. The set of his features was wild, feral, uncontrolled. Our kind were known for their beauty, breathtaking radiance...this was the flipside.

The monster he could not unleash anywhere near Bella. The monster that must have been clawing for freedom, tearing at his sanity to gain better control.

It was succeeding.

"No," he said, in a voice I hardly recognised. Higher, softer...a whisper of a blade as it sliced through the air. "I think I'll stay."

"You like the scenery that much, fine. But I am leaving," I said loudly and firmly, as though trying to communicate that I wasn't afraid of him.

Foolish, to lie to a telepath.

"Foolish indeed," he purred, but it was devoid of all and any affection. I wondered if I was even speaking to Edward at this point. He seemed too far gone, so lost to his own homicidal desires and bloodlust; let loose because his goodness was irreversibly incapacitated by a violent attack of self hatred.

"You should come with me," I tried, still not moving from where I had frozen upon first sensing him. I knew the posture to assume; I knew the drill for this sort of thing, but I couldn't force my shoulders to square. I couldn't deaden my eyes or bare my teeth. "We all need to hunt."

He smiled; a demonic, slow curl of those lips. "No. I don't want to hunt."

I wasn't stupid enough to walk into asking what he _did_ want. Instead I tried a different tack, hoping it didn't backfire.

'_Edward? You have to stop. This is not the way to go.'_

The monster's smile turned into a snarl, warning me off trying to communicate with the more reasonable half of what comprised us as immortals.

"Look at you," he sneered softly. "So full of determination not to fall prey to the darkness. A new leaf and all that? Nothing so unattractive as stupidity."

'_Think about Bella,' _I thought, desperately. _'Think about how much you love her, how close she came to dying!'_

Again, I prepared for retaliation – physical, verbal or mental – but he just smiled again; the sneer melting upwards like some travesty of a Dali painting.

"What do you think triggered this?"

Put in black and white terms, what was happening was very simple. Edward's pain barrier for self loathing and guilt had eclipsed itself. He couldn't cope and so the demon within had snatched the opportunity and stolen the controls for a while.

But grey pervaded, as always.

It wasn't a nice simple split. Edward _was_ the demon. This was Edward. Just less controlled than usual. A few layers peeled back, a few of the rigid rules we placed ourselves under...gone. He was doing this, he was driving and speaking and making these decisions but, well - some things were just too complicated even for introspective articulation.

Almost losing his love, his link to happiness had caused his to realise very quickly that he needed to sever the tie. Not only for her sake (which it was, mostly) but also for his own sake. The concept of her death was unimaginable and he had been confronted with the possibility of it that night. Again. He could not endure her death, it would destroy him. He knew it. Some pieces of him were selfish; they did not want to be destroyed.

As he read my thoughts, he was moving steadily closer to me. I stood my ground, prepared to run if necessary. I knew I should do just that; run and not look back. But I wanted to help him.

"Help me then," he breathed, far less demonic this time. Humanity bleeding into it, warming the enticement. "Help me, as only you can."

He was close enough now that I could count his eyelashes (eighty seven on the left ninety four on the right) and feel the energy humming from within him. Another step and our bodies would be pressed together; pieces of the same broken object, sliding into completion.

I put out a hand, flat to his chest and pushed him forcefully backwards even as that part of me, equally monstrous to the thing before me, growled and scathed at such a denial of unspoken pleasures.

"No," I said, starting to shake a little. "I'm aware it's not a word you're very good with at the moment, but get it through your thick skull. _No_."

"Why won't you help me?" he demanded; unevenness cracking the question mark.

"I will, just not like this."

He sneered again, disdainful of my attempts. "How then?"

"You can...we can just...talk."

It sounded pathetic to my own ears, but I was trying damnit and that was more than I could say for him.

"And what will we talk about, Rosalie? Shall we speak of the party? Pleasant, wasn't it? Shame about Bella almost dying, but such a faux pas can be overlooked, I'm sure."

"You wanted to kill her."

It worked a little. The darkness was replaced by bright sadness and sorrow, if only minutely. The flawless cold cracked and broke just a touch by the heat of guilt and self loathing.

"As did you."

"I don't love her, though. I cannot imagine how that must feel. Loving her and yet longing to devour her. The duality of it must be taxing, to say the least."

"Stop it," he whispered, fear belying the demand. "This isn't what I want."

"No, you want to use me to lose the pain of it all for a few stolen minutes, maybe hours. You want to forget Bella and everything else, wrapped up inside me. I won't let you."

"Why not?" he practically spat.

"Because you're going to change everything and you need to do it fully within your own consciousness, not lost in mine."

"I need you," he ground out, like it cost him something to admit it. "I need you to keep me steady. I'll...I'll break apart if you don't hold me together, like you thought earlier in the yard."

"I can hold you together in other ways," I offered, burying the fact that I didn't even know if such a thing was possible. "I can help you in other ways. Let me try."

He held my gaze evenly, reading me in a speculative way. "I know you want me, Rose. Why are you trying so hard to resist it?"

"Because your heart is breaking. That's why. Anything that happens between us now, apart from destroying any remaining self respect I might have for myself, would be a direct result of me taking advantage of you." He made a move to object, but I cut him off. "Don't deny it. You're in pieces and it's only going to get worse. Like I said, there has to be something else I can do help besides..."

I left it unfinished because saying it seemed like an unnecessary provocation.

The darkness lingered determinedly, but he seemed furtively hopeful. Trusting.

"Like...like what?"

"You need to hunt," I told him in a manner that brokered no room for arguments. "Then we're going to play chess."

"Pardon?"

"We are going to play chess," I told him in what was an undeniably threatening manner.

"We never play chess," he said flatly. "I'm a mind reader. I'd crush you."

"I can block you. Mislead you. It's true, we never play; but that's going to change."

"I don't want to play chess."

"Of course. You want to mope around doing nothing for the next few days while you work out what to say to Bella to let her down not-so-gently. I can see the superiority of _your_ plan."

His mind worked hard, following my reasoning for suggesting such a ridiculous thing – a pastime! – at such an interval in his life. Honestly, I wasn't sure it was the best plan I had ever conceived but at least it was something that didn't involve us ripping each other to pieces and the melding them back together during mind blowing, earth shattering, devastatingly beautiful sex.

Finally, his lips formed a thin line and he nodded once.

I took it as a sign of progress and, ignoring the bitterness of my own monster, went with him to hunt with our brother and sister.

* * *

So it became my responsibility to be the strong one for the next few months, maybe even years. None of us, not even Alice could know how long this was going to last but I had already promised myself that no matter how long the duration, I would be there for him. I could be strong now, I could hold him together while he fell apart; which he was absolutely going to do.

The smaller details, packing up the house and moving the furniture (important pieces; his piano, my desk, Esme's art, Carlisle's cross etc...) were swept over with the barest of interests. We were all well versed in these proceedings, so it was of little concern to anyone. Though we all kept a respectful distance from Edward, we were all utterly focused on him, waiting for some sign that he needed one of us to help him.

Or maybe using the word '_we'_ was just my way of deflecting how much I was obsessing.

Alice, Jasper and Esme left first; they went ahead to Denali. Tanya had been overly gracious over the phone, insisting we all come and stay for as long as we wanted until we found somewhere else to reside. I had hidden my disgust about that admirably; there were more important things to focus on than my rivalry (rivalry...as if she even _compared_ to me) with Tanya.

So Carlisle and I stayed behind, waiting for Edward to do what he needed to before he left Forks forever.

He hadn't been pleased about the fact that we were staying with him; in fact, he had been fervently against it, demanding that we give him space and respect his privacy as he went about the most heartbreaking task of his entire existence.

I knew he didn't really mean it. Deep down, beneath all that crippling independence and obstinacy, he was grateful that we'd ignored his protests, relieved that he didn't have to make the journey away from her alone.

Part of me marvelled that he was able to do it at all. I knew, given a reversal of the situation, that I wouldn't be able to leave Emmett. Even if it was for his own good; even if it meant he would be living a safer life, I knew I couldn't leave him. He was my whole world's happiness wrapped up in one being.

Of course, my mind just _had_ to add, there was one reason I would leave him.

Just one.

I smashed that thought aside, furiously determined not to entertain such musings at such a time. It was a moot point; over, gone, finished, impossible, lost.

This wasn't what he needed from me, and if it was, then...well...he would just have to make do with other forms of comfort. And chess.

In truth, I wasn't certain where the sudden certainty that chess would fix everything had come from but it was a plan, at least.

A large part of this plan stemmed from my determination to prove that we could have something resembling a normal relationship; that we could be close in _other_ ways. We had always avoided such activities as these, terrified that any outwards affection or interaction would cause suspicion in the minds of those around us. There seemed little point now, as Emmett knew a tiny, twisted portion of the truth; that we had been minimally involved at an early point in our immortal lives. So now it seemed possible that we could try to salvage something of a long since dysfunctional sibling relationship. Maybe if we could do that...

Maybe we could ignore the alternative; the furious, demanding alternative.

Chess seemed a little bit infantile now, considering the weight of what he was would be feeling when he finally got her alone and told her what he needed to tell her. Yet I could think of nothing else to distract him with; nothing _legitimate_ anyway.

Part of me knew I could give him more; knew that I could take that pain and self loathing, shame and guilt...take it all away and replace it with dizzying heat and comfort, rightness and completion. It would have been so easy and yet I couldn't bring myself to seriously contemplate it. I was the strong one now and that meant he was relying on me to make the decisions that would shape him in the oncoming months. If he could leave Bella, break his own heart and destroy his own happiness, all because it was the right thing to do, then I could do that too. The Right Thing. Unfamiliar as it was conceptually, it was the plan.

"Emmett gets knocked into a stream by a bear," Carlisle said after a moment or two, in which my busy mind had filled the silence with introspection. I blinked, returning to the room and smiled, my mind immediately latching onto the memory.

"White River, Ontario, 1954."

Carlisle nodded, smiling with me. This was a game we would sometimes play; we would take it in turns to name an event or occurrence and the other would have to name the year and place. "That was a nice little town."

"You love any place with a population less than a thousand," I pointed out.

We were both seated on the floor, backs against opposing walls. The furniture was moved into a corner, covered with several white sheets. Neither one of us wanted to read, so instead we'd sat down on the floor and started to play, waiting for Edward to come back. The anticipation of his return wasn't exactly pleasant, so the distraction was welcome.

"Your turn," he pointed out.

I thought only for a moment. "Alice and Jasper have a fight, Jasper storms out and breaks the back door."

"Riverside, Wyoming. 1971. Quite an event, I seem to recall."

True indeed, as Alice and Jasper very rarely fought. If ever a disagreement occurred between them, it was intensely private and often unnoticed until they had made up. This had been a particularly bad fight between them; Alice had not taken kindly to Jasper using his gift to influence her emotions, even though she had been suffering from depression at the time.

"I was so shocked, I'd never even heard Jasper raise his voice until then. It was terrifying." I sighed, looking back at Carlisle, waiting for him to pick a memory.

"Edward dives face first off the roof, wrecking the patio."

My mind did a little double take at that, processing the time period to which he referring. Throat tighter than it should have been, I responded with "Astoria, Oregon. 1965."

I didn't comment on his choice of memory, too caught up in trying to ignore it's connotations. That had been an...eventful year, to say the least. The endless trips around the world, different places, so many lighthouses. Then finally a small town on the sea, a rotting lighthouse and hiding inside of it, Edward.

'_You are my life...what language would you like that in?'_

"Sorry," Carlisle said gently, sensing something to make him regret his choice of memory. "I wasn't thinking."

I waved a dismissive hand and smiled. "Unnecessary. Edward suffered that year, not me."

His eyes never left mine; non-judgemental as always, but not quite believing. "Of course."

"Uh..." I scoured my brain, trying to think of another memory, quickly. "Esme breaks the first baseball bat and we switch to aluminium from then on."

"1961. Wreck Cove, Nova Scotia," he answered easily, something else on his mind now other than our game. There was something akin to a calculated pause; unusual for Carlisle who was never anything but supportive and understanding. When he spoke, it clicked.

"Edward falls in love for the first time."

Ah.

"March, 2005. Forks, Washington." My reply was instantaneous; detached and cool. All too late I realised it was the wrong way to respond; I shouldn't have even answered, given the circumstances in which we found ourselves. I should have called him on such bad timing, lack of tact – anything.

He didn't look away from me, just folded his hands over his knees. "Debatable."

"Maybe this isn't the best thing to be talking about right now," I tried, all too late. "He's out there right now, breaking up with her."

That seemed to work sufficiently to get him off the dangerous track he had been following. "Yes," he sighed, sadly. "I remain unconvinced of his decision, but it must be just that – _his_ decision."

Though I agreed on basic principle, I wished I had managed to dissuade him all the same. Edward had a tendency to be self sacrificing at times and though I could easily understand the nobility and chivalry behind his actions, that immovable streak of martyrdom irritated me. Knowing the pain he was causing himself, potentially unnecessary, was creating something of an almost tangible agony within me. It was the waiting; nerves and tension, fraught bundles of sickly anticipation all connected by something inexplicably familiar. It made sense to a certain extent; his pain would be my pain, his sadness would be mine and vice versa.

"Interfering would achieve nothing," I pointed out numbly, trying to bring myself back into the room with Carlisle. "His stubbornness is only outdone by my own."

A low chuckle drew my attention back to Carlisle; he was shaking his head. "I remember."

He smiled, staring off at the wall in front of him. I remembered the night we'd painted this room – all decked out in jeans and t-shirts. Emmett had rolled paint all the way up my back; the catalyst of a rather counter productive paint fight that broke out between everyone, ending only when Carlisle upended an entire tin of magnolia over Edward's head, while we fell doubled over with laughter. It had been such a good night, spent doing nothing but making an obscene mess.

I couldn't help but observe how specifically talented Edward and I were in such an area.

"When do you think he'll be back?" I asked after a few moments of companionable quietness.

Carlisle took a breath, contemplating as I was the scene that must have been unfolding even then. It was difficult to know that he was out there, ripping out his own heart in the name of love and nobility. Part of me wanted to slap him; part of me wanted....not to slap him.

"When he's ready," he answered after a while; an obvious non-answer, but it wasn't like I was expecting an estimated time.

"What if he's not able to come back? What if he leaves and we never see him again?" I knew I was supposed to be strong, damnit, but the panic and fear that this would be enough to drive him away permanently was overwhelming and I had never been good at concealing things from Carlisle. Mostly.

"I do not think he will do that," he said solemnly. "He can't do this alone."

"I wonder that he can do it at all."

"He loves her too much to allow himself to be in anyway responsible for her demise. Immortal life has given us much, but it has also taken away any ability any of us might have had towards accepting death. Immortal life means exactly that and though we suffer in many ways, none of us ever has to worry about the death of the other. Edward is ill prepared to face losing her forever, especially at his own hands."

The logical answer to the predicament Carlisle had underlined was horribly obvious; change her. Make her immortal, just like us. One had to wonder at Edward's hesitation to do so. Even through all his existential whining and moping, I did not trust his declarations that we were soulless beings. I knew we were not, as did he. How many times had I _touched, seen, embraced _his (our) soul? I was not alone in this belief; he knew it as solidly as I did, but obviously could not explain his certainty and it's empirical evidence to our family. So he retained the facade of believing us to be soulless. It made for a very steadfast excuse not to turn Bella into one of us, to the rest of the world at least.

But I, who knew better, could not help but question his motives in keeping her human; weak, vulnerable and ultimately doomed for death, no matter his distance from her.

"True," I said distantly unable to voice my own thoughts. "I suppose we can only be there for him as much as he will allow us to be."

For some reason, beyond my comprehension, Carlisle gave me a strange look then. As though I'd said something out of place, something that confused him. It melted away in a split second and I dismissed it easily.

"Of course," he said, sounding normal – no trace of the strange look inflecting his tone. He shifted position a little, letting his legs flat out completely. "Rosalie..."

The full name and hesitation made me immediately tense up. "Yes?"

"If I ask you a question, and swear it will never go beyond you and I, would you answer it?"

Suddenly terrified, but fully able to disguise it, I replied, "Depending on the question."

"The answer, were you to give it, would not be a simple yes or no. I doubt you will answer it at all, misinterpreting my motives in asking. But I would like to ask anyway, as you and I are so rarely alone in any true sense of the word."

Oh God. Oh holy God, what was happening now?

"Very well."

"How..." he paused, checking himself for phrasing, perhaps. "How did you feel when you were with Edward?"

"Excuse me?" I almost snapped, so unprepared to face such a query.

He winced. "Please don't get upset, it's just something I've always wondered. Neither one of you ever spoke of it after it ended and I was always curious to know exactly what it was you felt for one another."

Carlisle had been my father for so long now, someone I loved and trusted wholeheartedly, it was easy to forget that he was just as sharp and cognisant as I was. He was right; we had never spoken of it, not even while it was happening. I could recall all too well the intervention Edward and I had been greeted with upon making our way downstairs from that roof. My stomach clenched at the recollection of the terribly untrue – but always _necessary_ – things I had said.

…"_I used Edward and not only for my vanity. I used him to make sure I could still feel something resembling passion. To distract myself from the means of my death, the events before it and those that I executed after. This is all on me, it was my initiation. I made him feel guilty for being a gentleman. I made him question his own sense of right and wrong, so I could gain from it. We are not in love, nor will we ever be."…_

"It was so long ago, Carlisle," I said, sounding weary. "How can it still be of interest to anyone?"

He shrugged beautifully. "Indulge me."

At first I had no intention of doing so; I would flatly refuse to speak of it and spare myself the pain. But then, my mind considered, it would look unaccountably guilty _not_ to answer. If it was so hopelessly irrelevant and unimportant, why couldn't I speak of it?

I would lie, of course. I hated knowing how well I could lie to my father, how well I was _about_ to lie. My mind prepared itself and I took a breath with which to speak.

"Very well. It is a simple matter, though still a sore subject, owing to the sheer embarrassment we both feel because of it."

"Then keep it simple," he suggested kindly, all gentle anticipation. His bright, lovely eyes reminded me of Emmett and I relaxed a little. If I could outright lie to Emmett, I could certainly do so to Carlisle.

"We were young, stupid."

_No; we were already old souls, even then. Cursed with knowledge and understanding beyond our years. Not stupid, never stupid. Reckless and dangerous and destructive...never stupid... _

"It took a while for me to realise what I was starting to feel for him."

_I felt it immediately, confused it for hatred. Bright, burning, overwhelming...never felt anything like it, never before, never again after... _

"I had to work hard to get him to even notice me, of course. He was never very interested in me."

_Worked to keep his attention away from me; always watching me, always reading me, always seeing too deep down into me. Felt his eyes on me for miles, felt his mind reach in and read mine as if it was really him inside..._

"It was always very difficult, knowing he felt nothing for me."

_Knowing he loved me, enough to break himself apart and reshape just to fit into my own shadowy world... _

"I couldn't accept that he didn't see me like everyone else had. That he didn't pay me such attention."

_...that he saw me, truly saw me as no-one ever had. That he looked past everything bad, past everything shallow and cruel and vain. That he wanted to know me as no other had; ever would. That he had no interest in the facade I had constructed. That he could see me and knew me and loved me regardless... _

"He resisted, of course."

_...could never resist each other, never escape that irresistible rip tide that pulled us both down; drowning in each other, losing everything we had built as individuals..._

"But eventually, I managed to convince him. It began slowly, gradually."

_...exploded out of nothing, into everything. Too quick, too soon, too much, too familiar, too intimate, too much feeling all at once and surely we were going to break each other, immortal or not..._

"It never felt right."

_...pulling away, pulling back; never right, never truly belonging back in those separate bodies. Nothing felt right until we were bonded again..._

"It was awkward, strange."

_...too fluid, too perfect, too beautiful. Never strange, never unfamiliar, never a surprise that we fit together like pieces of the same broken object... _

"I suppose it was just taking solace in one another."

_...God, why hadn't we been doing this forever? Why couldn't we stay like this forever? How would we survive when we were forced to draw apart and go back to life without _this_? How could we function again? Life had no meaning, no truth, no beauty when we were apart. The world only made sense when we were tangled together, trying to leave our bodies and become the one and whole that we were. Solace...there would never be solace in knowing what we were, knowing what we supposed to be...and that we never could be..._

"Maybe a little curiosity."

_...never any mystery, never a secret unshared. Nothing unknown, nothing hidden. Everything blown wide open, each thought and feeling given and taken with the ease born of familiarity. He was me and I was him and we were one and the same, cut in half... _

"It made me forget about the past."

_...made me memorise everything, made me want to remember every single little detail, no matter how horrible or dark.... _

"It certainly didn't last very long."

_...still feel him inside me now, lingering touches and kisses covered and drenched in rain with the crashed car not yards away from us as we meld into one..._

"In the end, we both realised we'd made a mistake."

..._a mistake that we didn't accept it for what it was earlier, when our union would have hurt no-one else. A mistake not to trust that feeling, instead of running from it. A mistake to ever involve anyone else in lives that belonged inextricably to only the two of us. A mistake to give hearts that had each other's fingerprints all over them, to others...._

"It was a leaning curve, a lesson in control."

_...learning how to lie and deceive and hold back on the instinct to touch and kiss and have in front of others. A lesson in control; to control the overwhelming desire to break from the restraints we put in place. A lesson we never fully learned_....

"We were never in love."

…"_I don't just __love you__. I adore you, I worship you, I __am __you. We're the same soul in two bodies and the word '__love' __falls inadequate to describe what I feel for you."…_

"Emmett changed everything."

…_A mediator, a leveler, someone to keep a balance that would prevent us from spiralling away into one another, keep me grounded in reality, love and happiness and somehow Edward too…_

"It ended there and then."

"…_We can maintain this façade so long as it is exactly that; a façade. A mask for everyone else, which can be discarded when we are alone together. I love you beyond what I ever thought capable, Rosalie. I can't even say how much, there aren't words. Words are for humans, and no human has ever felt this. Let me _show you_how much I love you…"_

"Our relationship became intensely awkward."

…_keeping up appearances, making it less suspicious. Can't let them see us look at each other like that, disguise it with hatred, bitterness, irritation – anything. Never touch in public, never smile or laugh together, fight and struggle to keep it hidden, always hidden from the real world. Too much temptation, too much connection and intensity, hidden away behind coldness and indifference…_

"We retained the same dislike we established from the start of things."

…"_No-one knows how to hurt me like you do."_

"_No-one __wants __to hurt you like I do!"…_

"But as time drew on I felt myself building a sort of regard for him, a grudging respect that blossomed in it's own time, into love."

…_every day a struggle not to touch, not to break free and give into the love and desire and aching beauty of what we could be if only we were allowed to touch, bond, melt into one another. Every moment of every day and night twisted into agony until we would break down and give in…_

"We aren't exactly each other's greatest fan."

…_focal point of my universe, my world…_

"…but he's my brother and I love him now beyond what I ever thought possible, all those years ago."

…_Not a brother, never a brother, never anything but what he is and how he makes me feel and _Christ_ the pain of pretending should have killed me by now…_

"It took a long time to admit it, but he's a part of me, I guess."

…_He Is Me…_

"It's so weird, talking about it."

…_lying to you, breaking my own beliefs down into meaningless deceptions and half truths…_

"I assumed you knew how I felt about it."

…_pray to any God listening that you don't…_

"It really isn't anything important."

…_it's everything. All else is meaningless noise and movement, a second life of blurred outlines and faded sound…_

"Certainly not now, with this looming."

…_how will I not touch him? Not give into what he wants, needs? How am I going to keep him together without capitulating?..._

"And that about sums it up, really."

…_you will never know the truth, never know how deep this really goes, maybe I won't either…maybe neither of us truly will…_

I allowed silence to fill the air as he processed the limited words I had used to completely lie about the entire thing. He never commented, never reacted to one piece of meaningless information more than the next and for a few seconds I was convinced he was about to shake his head and demand the truth.

Instead, he let that smile cross his face and said, "Thank you. I know it's difficult talking about it, but I wanted to know."

"Well now you do," I said calmly; an amazing feat, considering how my insides were churning and thrashing. "I just fail to recognise any bearing it has upon this situation."

He shrugged, as if it was obvious. "He needs help. For some reason, you're who I suspect he will turn to the most."

I snorted with laughter. "Hardly."

Now I could vaguely detect something like sympathy. "He loves you too, Rose. More than you know."

I rolled my eyes. "That's neither here nor there, is it?"

"It's why you're here. You can help him in ways none of us can. You _know_ what it's like to reach those depths of darkness he's about to stumble headlong into. You can help him find his way out again."

It made sense, I supposed. I didn't argue the point anymore, my mind was too busy crushing down the cavalcade of memories I was suddenly deluged with, having to state those 'facts' for Carlisle. Despite my perfect, eidetic memory, I found myself struggling to recall a time when my life had been free of lies and deceptions. Ever pre-immortality had been tainted thusly. So many lies.

_Yes, Father; I understand why it's not prudent that I further my education. _

_Yes, Mother; I agree that I need to lose weight. _

_Yes, Vera; I do love Royce. _

Though it was an inescapable clause of living the life I did, I hated lying. A proficiency and impressive talent for it did not lessen my instinctive abhorrence towards it. Always the necessary lies. Never the full truth to anyone except Edward, who was forced to lie almost as much I was. It was depressingly circular.

"What do we do when he returns?"

Neither of us voiced the unspoken concern left hanging there. _If_ he returns.

"Well," he began slowly, considering. "We won't really know until we see him. Until we see how bad it is."

"I think we can safely assume it's going to be pretty bad."

"There are specific variations; each one difference. Edward is, as are you, frustratingly mercurial. His reactions could go any number of ways. He could be openly devastated; he could act as thought nothing was really even wrong. I'm afraid that with my first two children, there came no set rules or instructions. You defy all consistency; any predictability."

And there we were again, our names synonymous beneath the label of unpredictability. Rosalie and Edward. It made me unaccountably nervous; Carlisle's discernment was limitless and often underestimated.

"Edward perhaps," I reasoned in a well controlled tone. "But I do almost the same things every day. The same routine. How can you say that defies consistency?"

He smiled a small half smile, with knowing, yet loving eyes.

"You may follow the beaten track, Rosalie, with regards to everyday life but how you react to it is impossible to predict. You can do the same thing twice in two days; love it one day, hate it the next. The scenery does not shift nor does the repetition of most activities, but your regard for them does. Nothing, if not capricious."

"So," I said, struggling to bring the conversation back to Edward. "What are we supposed to do if he wants to leave and be alone for some huge span of time. What do we do then?"

He inclined his head, shoulders tightening. "We let him."

Carlisle would never impose authority over Edward, or any of us, if it was wholly an entitled decision. I, however, was under no such restrictions. Maybe it would have been easier to let him leave; but it wouldn't help him.

Alone, Edward would fall into a pit of despair and not even bother to try and climb out. His penchant for indulging in misery was a well worn streak within himself and given the chance, I knew what depths he was capable of reaching without someone there to pull him back out again. He would lock himself away in some rotting structure, tortured endlessly by his own thoughts. No, that I could not allow even if he begged for it.

"Of course," I contributed lightly, no real meaning behind it. A few more seconds passed in silence, which was dangerous as it gave Carlisle time to pose other long standing questions from the past. "How is everyone in Denali?"

Another wry smile. "Fine," he answered. "Tanya sends all her love."

"To Edward, no doubt," I muttered, unable to further conceal my loathing. "How thrilled was she exactly, when she heard that Edward Cullen would soon be available once more?"

For the first time in my not inconsiderable existence, I felt a rather awkward rush of affection/pity/regret for Isabella Swan. Though she had at one point been the bane of said existence, I realised that her relationship with Edward had been a blessing in disguise in more than one way. Ensuring Edward's happiness was, of course, the primary reason. Giving him what Emmett gave me (in admittedly _very_ different ways) she had done us both a great service. But apart from that, she had also filled a physical gap in Edward's life. As his partner, she had saved us all from suffering a new addition of another vampire. Bella might have been irritating in a goody-two-shoes sort of way, but she was highly preferable when compared to Tanya. Not to mention non-threatening. Imagining Tanya neatly inserting herself into Bella's place was practically impossible, yet still horrifying. _Tanya_ as my sister.

And who knew what Edward's state of mind would be when (_if_) he returned? Who could predict, as Carlisle had rightly pointed out, what madness he would be susceptible to? Maybe he would find comfort in Tanya's words and far reaching arms. The thought was monstrous.

"Rose," he chided me gently. "You have nothing to fear from Tanya. She has great respect for you."

I snorted, but didn't elaborate. Tanya and I might smile and speak with all the airs and graces of forced politeness, but beneath it lay a genuine streak of dislike; established years ago during a rather nasty confrontation. I dismissed the memory – acrid and bitter in my mouth – and focused on the now. The now that would be soon inundated with far more pressing issues.

"It hardly matters, at any rate."

A few minutes later, which were spent in quietness and contemplation, we both detected his scent, approaching the house. He was moving quickly, not unexpected taking all things into consideration.

We both stood and headed towards the front door, while I tried to prepare myself for the worst.

I needn't have bothered. Nothing could have prepared me.

After that moment, seeing him standing just shy of the front door, knees ready to buckle, everything about him lost and torn apart...after that moment, everything changed.

Another breaking point.

Another shift in the already complicated dynamic of things.

Hindsight being what it was, I knew enough now to be able to pinpoint the exact moment I knew I had fallen head over heels in love with him. I could feel the clothes I had been wearing, taste the air, hear the sounds all around us as I literally broke down, let the walls crumble and it had hit me hard, disorientating me completely in all things but the certainty that I loved him. That one tiny moment when he hadn't really even been doing anything significant, except watching me read a book. I had glanced up from the page as his eyes ensnared my own and that had been it. I'd _known_ with every fibre of my immortal body, of my mind and my soul that I was in love with him.

Love, whatever it was, smashed into my senses, shattering any logic or composure. Indefinable, indescribable, incomprehensible....love. It hadn't grown slowly out of respect and regard. It had exploded from within me, crashing through barriers without the slightest care for consequences, demanding freedom and acknowledgement.

Both terrifying and beautiful, the moment stuck out particularly as I stared at him in the doorway. The destructive forces that had consumed me in that moment, so long ago...I could feel them again.

When his knees did finally give out, I was the one who caught him. He fell forward helplessly and because I had been waiting for it, my reflexes were just a fraction faster than Carlisle's. I bore his weight easily, as if he were nothing more than a child and very gently, I set him down on the floor in a kneeling position. His head dropped down, obscuring any view of his face, but his right hand reached and found mine; gripping it hard, immovable and painful in it's intensity. He was hyperventilating; the origins of what could easily have been a panic attack. I placed a soothing hand on his back, making small, repetitive circles.

It took a few seconds to acknowledge that Carlisle was kneeling right beside us. Part of me genuinely did _not_ care. The pain was devastating and I could not help but be infected by it to some degree. Seeing him in pain like that was agony and it went against every instinct I had not to touch him. When I pulled my hand from his iron grip, he tightened it for a moment longer before eventually letting go. The world and all it's rules would not stop spinning just for us.

"Son," he was saying, his hands on Edward's shoulders. "Edward, can you hear me?"

I shuffled backwards a little, staying close but not close enough to cause any undue suspicion. When Edward didn't reply, Carlisle waved a hand in front of his frighteningly blank face.

"He seems to be in shock."

"Can you bring him out of it?" I was amazed at how calm I sounded, when inside I was furious, screaming. I wanted nothing more than to shake him out of it, make him look around and see that he could recover from this. I wanted...I wanted him to look at me.

… '_COME ON, ROSALIE! I__'__M RIGHT HERE! LOOK AT ME! I__'__M RIGHT HERE!__'…_

We'd helped each other then, not so long ago; we had caught one another before we fell and we could do so again. But what were our methods of achieving this? It certainly wasn't cuddles and friendship; platonic chit-chat with mugs beneath duvets with a movie in the background. No. We helped each other in the strangest, most terrible ways.

_...'You have to do it__…__please__….__please__. Make me hurt__…__make me bleed.__'…_

I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that. Every moment that I stared at him, glassy eyed and increasingly unmoving, I was less and less certain of my abilities to do _anything _for him, let alone certain that chess was going to even remain a viable option...still, we had to try, didn't we? So many years of knowledge and existence had to lend credence to the idea that we could reach for nobility and wisdom. We had to strive not to touch, not be indulge, not to give in.

Even then, fighting not to touch him took a lot of concentration. It was _instinct_ to touch him when he was like this. Several times my fingers flexed and my arm started to lift itself midair, only to fall back down before Carlisle would notice. My whole body swayed involuntarily towards him; a knee jerk reaction to his pain, the pain I could almost feel.

"You're alright, Edward. You did the right thing. Everything is alright now."

Part of me wondered why Carlisle took the trouble to lie at all. Even if it wasn't horribly obvious, Edward was and had always been a mind reader. Able to discern the truth from a lie even before becoming an immortal, though perhaps not with such razor sharp precision. He didn't seem to mind, however, nor did he correct Carlisle or lash out at him for telling such transparent lies.

As Carlisle had rightly diagnosed, he was in shock.

Were we alone, I knew how I would get him back to this plane. I knew what method I was select in going about this task of dragging him back into reality. Worse still, I knew it would work.

Yet, I couldn't. Blinding irritation and anger threatened to swallow me whole as I was forced to stand idly by, stupidly watching as he fell deeper, further into his torn, injured state of mind. My fingers twitched, my teeth ground together; I viciously hated the charade all of a sudden, even Carlisle who I so adored, even he was useless in the face of something like this. The bruising force of the knowledge that I was the _only_ one who could help him now was like a blow to the face. Being made to stand idly by and watch it happen, without being able to interact of help him...it was torture. My skin itched and ached invariably. Everything felt wrong, backwards...bad.

For neither the first or last time, I cursed the self imposed restraints that held me back from following my instincts, deeply entrenched and irremovable. He was hurt, broken and utterly devastated and I would be forced to stand by and do _nothing_ but offer pitiful platitudes of outwardly acceptable sympathy.

Edward had yet to speak and I began to think he might never do so again. Carlisle was speaking to him; slow, steady lies to his first son, trying to get him to look at him, but it was futile. Those eyes...they were vacant, lost in whatever agony he had brought upon himself.

"We have to get him out of here," Carlisle said, low and uneasy. "He can't stay. Help me move him to the car."

"No!" Edward's voice, sharp and hoarse at the same time, almost made me jump. Whatever moratoria he had been slipping into, it seemed to break all of a sudden.

"No?" Carlisle echoed, worriedly. "You wish to remain here? I do not think that's..."

Edward shook his head, averting his eyes downward. "I know, I know I can't stay but...there are things in..." his breath gave out and he seemed to struggle with how to breathe in the next for a moment. "...in Bella's room. Things I need to get rid of, to make it easier for her."

The toll those words took on him was gravely concerning. "That's unwise, Edward," I warned. If he was struggling with her name, I doubted that he could bring himself to go into her room and remove all traces of himself.

"You'd rather she did it herself?" he demanded, quietly.

"No, but...let me do it. I could do it for you."

Carlisle gave me an encouraging smile, placing his hand on Edward's shoulder.

"There, how does that sound?"

Obviously not ideal, I could tell by Edward's darkening expression. I knew then that he may have had other motives in going back to her room one last time. To take something of hers, perhaps. A memento.

"Fine," he said lifelessly. "But don't take them away, just...just hide them under the floorboards. I'll write you a list. But don't take them away, you understand? Make sure they're there, just not where she can find them."

I hid my pity well, for both of them. "Of course," I said. "You should go with Carlisle and I'll make my own way to Denali."

Part of me wondered if he would object to this, if he would want me nearby. I could almost feel myself hovering, waiting for him to voice such objections and demands. When it was clear he wasn't going to, I placed a swift kiss to Carlisle's cheek and went on my way, cursing each step that drove me further from the other half of me, as it imploded upon itself.

* * *

It didn't take long for that white hot agony to bubble down to lukewarm desolation and then finally to cool and solidify into icy, implacable antipathy and resentment. Suffice to say, no-one could ever hope to out-brood Edward Cullen.

Denali was as insufferable as I had predicted, perhaps even exceeding my own grim expectations. Our last visit there hadn't been pleasant, to say the very least, and though our hostesses were gracious and sympathetic it was clear that Tanya had not forgotten our last exchange. She spoke barely more than fifty words to me during the entire two week stay, most of which were in passing. She caught on very quickly to the fact that Edward would not take very kindly to being accosted or propositioned; in fact it had been within two hours of our general arrival there that she seemed to decide it best to give him some privacy.

Thankfully it hadn't taken Esme and Carlisle long to find somewhere new for us to reside, far from Tanya and her subtle, well worded spite. They had found a beautiful place, in need of much renovation and work, in Ithaca. It was suitable in many ways for us, one of the main aspects being that it was as far from Washington as possible without crossing water or the Canadian border.

Distance, it was universally acknowledged, was wholly necessary for such a situation. We were familiar with the area, in fact it was barely two hours from Rochester. Jasper was in great need of distraction; he was considering attending Cornell and studying there. He and Alice were going through somewhat of a rough patch lately; what with Jasper's increasing moral dilemma and Alice's need to know more of her roots in the mortal world, they too found themselves looking fondly upon the idea of distance, if only for a short while. I wondered, once again, at their dynamic; I could never leave Emmett while he was suffering. I would have fought violently, as would he, to get to the root of the issue, regardless of his insistences. But they were a very different kind of couple to us and I did not question their confidence in the actions they took.

Tensions were running high; all of us caught in the maelstrom of Edward's despair. It made the air thick with palpable pressure and concern; each word was a risk, like stepping eggshells and as a result, we were all on tenterhooks with one another as well as Edward. Careful, cautious conversations were all we dared engage in until his mood would stabilise.

Two weeks in Denali were quite sufficient and I was thrilled when we were finally able to leave.

_"Are you quite sure you will not stay a little longer?" Tanya had asked, sounding so sorry to see us all leave, as if nothing had made her happier than to have us as guests. _

_Esme, hand in hand with our gracious hostess, had replied, "Oh Tanya, that's so kind of you but I think a little change of scenery is really for the best. We can't thank you enough for your hospitality though."_

_Tanya had brushed it aside with a warm, kind smile. "Not at all," she'd insisted, that slight accent ever detectable to my ears. "It has been my pleasure in having you all with us."_

_Carlisle had stepped in to offer his gratitude also as one by one we trailed outside to our separate cars. Emmett had shot me a look which plainly meant I was duty bound to thank her for allowing us to stay, and then it was only Tanya and I left. _

_"Well," I'd said, hoping to keep it short and civil. "Thank you, Tanya."_

_Her smile was slow and sweet, like processed honey. "You are most welcome, Rosalie. I am only sorry you could not have more time alone with Edward."_

_I slung my handbag over my shoulder and threw her a haughty, confused look. "Excuse me?" _

_The smile stayed, as her eyes glinted. "I was sure, as were we all, that Edward would undoubtedly turn to you for help in dealing with such sadness."_

_"He has his whole family behind him," I countered lazily. "He'll turn to whoever he needs to, as soon as he's ready."_

_"Of course, I'm sure soon enough he'll be crying on your shoulder."_

_The bitch was bating me. _

_Instead of swinging my very expensive Prada handbag at her smug face, I let loose a smile of my own; just as rich in deceit as hers. _

_"As always, Tanya, your selflessness does you credit. Indeed, I could never fathom why it was that Edward never showed you any interest over the years. I've always found you so pleasant and kind that his refusal baffles me endlessly."_

_The honey thick smile faltered a fraction. "Perhaps his interests were otherwise engaged," she returned, just swerving the boundaries of nastiness. _

_"Perhaps. But when all's said and done, regardless of which shoulder Edward may turn to, we all know it certainly won't be yours."_

_I turned to leave then, but I felt her small, strong hand on my arm. I turned, barely managing to restrain myself from lashing out. Her face was very close to mine. _

_"You are not worthy of him!" she snarled. "Of Edward, or even Emmett! I know something's not right between you and Edward, I've always known it and one day I'm going to show everyone how unworthy your are of that husband of yours!"_

_"Oh Tanya," I said, smiling sweetly as I pried her fingers off me. "Jealousy really does bring out your eyes."_

And with that, I had flounced away, listening to an impressive string of Russian swear words and curses twisting around my name.

Now that Denali, and all it entailed, was behind nothing but a resentful shadow stretching further and further away from us, the real issues began to emerge. I knew well enough that Edward would not allow himself to fully engage in whatever depression and dejection until he was surrounded only by true family. He had proved me right almost straight away. Upon arriving at the house in Ithaca, he had shut himself away in the attic and had not been seen since. In Denali, he had made an effort (dwindled and withered though it was) to involve himself in some of what was happening all around him. Now that he was free of obligations, he could do exactly what he wanted to do; lock himself away from the world.

Things had changed. Of course, this was something we were all accustomed to; change of scenery was inevitable and unavoidable. Things like moving house, rearranging furniture, applying to schools and so on, was second nature to us as a family.

But this wasn't just a change of scenery. Things were different now; a new kind of situation required our attention and support. With nothing to dally and delay anymore, I found myself faced with the task I had been preparing for. Only I wasn't prepared enough, at all.

As previously stated, it had not taken Edward very long to resign himself to coldness and reticence; reverting to his silently furious, taciturn nature that I was well acquainted with. Only familiarity with type was of no use to me here. He _seemed_ like the Edward we all knew and so sympathised with, but his pain was alien even to himself and it made things unpredictable. Any certainty I may have had with regards to helping him, wavered badly those first few nights in Ithaca. He seemed less locked away in the attic and more locked away in himself. He answered no-one, spoke to no-one, barely moved except to shake or nod his head. He sat where he had fallen, against a wall facing East. After three days, dust had began to settle on him.

My ideas of chess had yet to come to fruition, but I was determined to try it at some point in the future. Even if it just made him angry, that would be something at least. Any kind of response would be progress.

So, it was with the coordinated efforts of Carlisle, Emmett and Esme that I managed to get some alone with him. Carlisle and Esme were happy to let me try whatever I wanted with him, while Emmett was been a little more concerned.

"Are you sure this is the best idea?" he asked, hands clasped over mine, holding me back from my mission. Uncertainty thrummed through him, visible in his shoulders.

I smiled gently. "Absolutely not, but I have to try, right?"

"I guess, but still..." he was cut off as I pressed my lips against his.

"...Shhh now," I murmured.

When I pulled away he looked more relaxed, just before he caught onto my plot. "Hey! You can't use the whole kissing thing as a distraction every time, you know. One day you're going to have to let me win an argument."

"There's no argument, Em. He's our brother, he needs help. I can get through to him because I'm the only one not afraid to try. It's as simple as that. If it fails then he can't be any worse off than he is now and we've learned a lesson."

"Alright, but if it gets out of hand, call me and we'll come right back. I can get construction supplies any old day of the week."

I knew he was really, genuinely worried as his slight accent became more pronounced. I sent him on his way with another kiss and then turned inward, away from the front door of the somewhat dilapidated house, and towards the task I had set myself.

The house, for all it's run down state, had the potential to be quite beautiful. High ceilings, large rooms, double doors, swirling stair cases. It hadn't been that expensive, either; despite it's neglected appearance, it was obviously worth more than we had paid for it. Carlisle had told us yesterday one potential reason why it hadn't been so expensive; it was rumoured to be haunted. One of the interns at the hospital he applied to had told him in hushed, conspiratorial whispers of how a young girl was supposed to have killed herself and her unborn child in the attic. No-one in the Cayuga Heights area wanted to buy it, given the local rumours.

I gave no thought to that as I made my way up to the attic, book in hand, where he was lurking; there were enough ghosts to deal with.

He was ready for me, that much was certain. Mind reader that he was, my approach was no surprise to him, much less my intentions. This made things always so much more difficult. In this state of mind, he didn't _want_ to be helped.

Back against the unpainted wall, hunched and brooding, there he sat.

The air was stale; both windows were tightly shut. I could taste that he hadn't breathed more than three or four times in the many hours he had been in this part of the house. It was a cavernous room; deep and dark, dust thick on every surface save for where his feet had dragged across the floor. But even those marks were staring to fade now, replaced by new, thinner layers. Such layers were starting to coat his hair, his clothes, even his eyelashes.

He didn't acknowledge me at all. I might have been invisible for all he reacted to me, but it didn't matter. I hadn't expected anything better. Instead of trying to gain his attention and attempt to lure him into speech, I simply sat down somewhere nearby, crossed my legs and began to read my book, _Rebecca. _

As I started to lose myself in the book, I lost track of time. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but when I glanced around my body clock informed me that almost two hours had come and gone without my knowing. I looked at Edward, who had yet to move, and wondered if I was really doing any good at all. His shoulders seemed a little more relaxed and his fists weren't curled quite so tight, but that was really all the differences I could perceive. I returned to the book, trying to keep my thoughts only on the literature before me.

Another hour passed before I heard sounds from downstairs. Doors opening and closing, bags being set down, laughter and banter between Esme and Emmett.

I closed the book gently and rose from my seated position on the floor, wiping the dust from my hands onto my jeans as I did. Both of us had yet to speak a single word, but it didn't feel like a wasted three hours. Somehow, I felt it had helped him. Even in the most miniscule of ways, the air did not seem quite so thick. When I closed the attic door behind him, I was almost certain I heard him inhale.

The next night I repeated the ritual, not even bothering to ask the rest of the family to leave. I went up to the attic with the same expectations; nothing. I sat, I read in silence until such a time as I felt it was right to leave. And the next night, the same thing. Again. And again.

One week of silent reading, four books finished and not a single word said.

On the eighth day, that changed.

I had genuinely been reading the book this time; I'd managed to draw my attention at least partially away from him and let my mind fall into the mesmerising, lyrical prose of _Wuthering Heights_. As one of my all time favourite books, it was easy to lose myself in it to such a degree that when he spoke, I actually jumped.

"We make love in the water for the first time, you recite _Wuthering Heights_ to me in your mind."

I looked up, honestly shocked that he had spoken and my mind went completely blank at his random choice of words. I scrambled to make sense of what he had said, wondering (not for the first time) if he had beaten me to it, losing his mind.

And forgetting that I was supposed to be supportive and wise during his time of crisis, I very elegantly managed a, "Huh?"

His eyes were straight ahead, unfixed but steadily avoiding my own. As immortals, we rarely fidgeted or made unnecessary movements so it fell to the eyes as indications of feeling. I pondered if that was all of us, or just myself. My own helpless fixation with his eyes.

"Year and place," he said, tonelessly, though he was _speaking_ and that had to be something.

It clicked. He was playing mine and Carlisle's game.

But then what he had said also clicked and suddenly I felt the immortal, nonexistent equivalent of a slow blush, creeping over my face. In reality it was nothing more than a rapid set of blinks as I bit the corner of my mouth. But his words, the first in days, were obviously well chosen and the subject of much deliberation. I could not help but feel this was a bad start.

"I don't know," I said, much to hoarse and quite for my own liking. I cleared my throat and added, "I don't remember," for good measure. I clamped my mind down hard, focusing strongly on the book and forming a black wall around the parts of my treacherous mind that needed protecting.

He shifted slightly, sending little clouds of dust into the stale air. "Liar."

"Some things never change, I guess," I said noncommittally, turning a page because it gave my hands something to do. "What made you think of it?"

I waited, terrified and hating myself for asking such a stupid, dangerous question. Emmett was _downstairs_, for God's sake.

Still staring at the space before him, he replied, "The passage you just read."

I didn't need to turn back and scan the page to know to which passage he was referring.

_'... Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'_

I knew that he didn't for one moment believe that I had forgotten that night in the water, entwined in a forbidden tangle beneath the surface of the world, conjoined and kissing endlessly. I had thought of that passage, caught in the agony of having everything my soul so achingly desired, but knowing that tomorrow it would be taken away again. As I'd had no words of my own to articulate such emotions, I had fallen back on quoting scripture.

As if I didn't remember. As if it wasn't branded, carved, etched into my very being.

But there was no good to come of admitting it. So I lied, uselessly, and shut down that part of my mind, locking it away.

"Don't do that," he whispered, so quietly I had to strain to hear it. More than that, I _felt_ the insistence behind it. "Don't take it away from me."

My throat caught in the unexpected bolt of guilt that lanced through me. A clear contradiction between what he _wanted_ and _needed_ was making itself well known in the bottom of my stomach. Of course he would _want_ to reach out and touch, to feel and be loved in the highest of ways. But, I forced myself to acknowledge, what he _needed_ was distanced support and contactless reassurances.

"I can't take it away from you, but I can't...I can't let it be the only thing that keeps you here, Edward. This can't be your anchor. Not this."

His eyes moved effortlessly to mine with a daunting precision and intensity. His jaw worked, his whole face set grim and dark. "Then why are you here?"

"To help you."

"Oh yes," he deadpanned. "I forgot. We're going to play chess and talk through it."

"If you want," I offered weakly.

The weight behind his gaze was crushing. "That is _not_ what I want."

"But it's what you need," I pointed out after a few moments spent gathering myself.

His eyes narrowed a little, he raised his chin defiantly. "How would you know what I _need_?"

"I will not be drawn into this with you, Edward," I insisted, threatening to turn back to my book. "The most that will pass between us, is words."

And just like that, he shut down again. "Fine," was the last word he said for another week and a half.

* * *

In hindsight, I should have thought more carefully when setting rules concerning our relationship from then on. Though we were both equally clever, Edward had the added determination to find a loophole in what I'd stipulated. So while I clung to my hope that I was doing the right thing for him, he had obviously been sitting there thinking of a way around what I had declared.

The eleventh book sat in my lap, over crossed legs as I leaned back and read from a distance, back against an opposing wall. Immortal eyesight meant that I could see each word and it's individual print from a good distance away, with almost no light and a whole lot of dust drifting aimlessly through the thick, cold air. I had devoured most of the classics and favourites; now I'd started to branch out into more varied subjects. _The Recursive Universe_ sat in my lap, telling me of the astonishing similarities between complex mathematical systems and the patterns of intelligent life.

And again, he cleverly waited until I was almost completely lost in the book itself before springing his next attempt upon me.

"I crawl over on my hands and knees to where you're sitting," he said, voice guttural with disuse. My attention to the book broke instantly, like a filament of thread snapping. I raised my eyes above the book, but not to him. "I take the book from your hands, throw it to one side and touch your face with my fingertips. They trace your cheek, your lips, the side of your neck."

I wasn't ready. Wasn't quick enough to see what it was he was doing.

"I already..." I paused to take a stronger, deeper breath. "Already told you I won't play that game with you. That's for myself and Carlisle, only."

It still didn't occur to me then, what exactly my mistake had been. But when he spoke, I could hear, without seeing, that he was smiling a little.

"I'm not playing that game," he told me. "I'm touching you."

Three words from him managed to send my previously calm, collected thoughts into a supernova of heat and light. He knew it too, for when I looked up at him he looked grimly pleased, as if some hard task had paid off.

"No," I managed, not quite breathless yet. "You are not."

I looked at the space between us, just to make sure of that fact. We were sitting on opposite sides of the attic, against opposing walls. There was at least twenty feet of distance between our seated positions.

"I flatten my hand against your collarbone and twist it around the back of your neck, pulling you to me, just stopping shy of kissing," he said, voice lethal and velvety. He knew exactly what he was doing; it was obvious in the confidence behind his well chosen words. I wanted to get up and walk out; I _should_ have, so he knew he couldn't treat me like this. But then he started to speak again and I froze, mid momentum. "Our lips almost graze, our noses touch briefly. Our eyes never part and my hand slides from your neck up into your hair."

'_The most that will pass between us, is words.'_

Bastard. Clever, sneaky bastard.

So he wanted to play it like this, did he? Well that was fine. I wasn't going to walk out, be driven away because his words could stir things within me that I hadn't given permission to stir.

"I pull away, push you back and we are no longer touching," I countered, with admirable evenness.

He smirked, not intimidated at all. On the contrary, he seemed thrilled that I was engaging in it, which made me uncomfortable.

"But your don't turn and walk away."

"I won't leave you in this, I already told you that."

"So you stay."

"But not for this."

"But you don't move away. You stay right in front of me because you _can't_ turn away. You need me as much as I need you; you feel the thrumming energy, thrashing and coiling within and you know as well as I do...if it doesn't find an outlet, it will explode inside us."

"There are other ways," I pleaded. "Let me show you other ways of..."

"-I pull you into me, one fluid movement and your mouth is flush against my own."

The breath is knocked from me, but I recover enough of it to speak. "I won't kiss you."

"No, at first it's just me kissing you. Unmoving lips, nothing but pressure against them."

"This is wrong, we can't - -"

"-But then my hands move from your shoulders, slowly down to your arms, your wrists and finally your hands. I take your hands in mine and tangle them together; the preliminary joining point and then you sigh against my mouth and kiss me back."

"Never."

"We're kissing now, you can't deny that we're kissing."

"I want to help you, Edward..."

"You kiss me harder, as if it makes everything else vanish. The outside world flickers and threatens to fade into oblivion as it always does when your tongue is on mine."

"Stop, please..."

"The heat of your mouth, your body...it drives me wild, into madness and I can't keep our hands so idle. I have to pull you closer, pull you into me. I run my hands over your back, feeling the muscles jump and move beneath my fingers. Gluteus medius, latissimus dorsi, teres major, deltoid, trapezius...and then I'm back to your neck, pulling your mouth into mine as though we could literally fall into one another if we tried hard enough."

My hands shook and trembled with the effort of keeping some semblance of self control in place. "Please..."

"Yes," he practically groaned, his eyes heavy with unconcealed lust and wanting. They conducted electricity into me, I could feel it. "You'll say '_please_' and a part of me knows it means stop, but another part of knows that we couldn't stop even if we really wanted to. I break the kiss, just enough to see your eyes. To see if you're serious. I see the conflict in them. Torn between the right thing and the _right thing_," he growled. "And then it's you who's kissing me. Kissing me as if trying to find a way to crawl out of your own body and into mine. I can only reciprocate as clothes start to come apart, vanishing into the world just outside of heat we create. And then...God and then it's skin to skin and the fall backwards through the air until we crash into one another in the way we were always meant to crash."

"You need to stop," I tried, brokenly.

"Never breaking contact, never moving away...always moving _into_ one another. Moving forward as if to dissolve in what we create. Dissolving into heat, motion, traction...each other. Descending into madness, only each other to hold onto as we fall. I am inside you and you are inside me and nothing else can matter when we are one and then same."

His head fell back against the wall, his breathing was almost laboured. "The world falls away and everything is as it is always meant to be. No time to keep track of, no love to contend with, no obligations to be distract us. We are one being and the heat will shatter us apart, break the bones and let us bleed into one another. Euphoria, oblivion...it breaks me until I'm unrecognisable as anything but the counterpart of _our_ soul. As the other half of you, who is the other half of me. Until we're not halves anymore. Until the heat allows us to melt into one being. Caught in the supernova of devastating pleasure, bliss, ecstasy. Blown apart, obliterated..." he paused, losing his breath and his eyes closed, tears falling from them. "But resurrected by what lies between us. What will always lie between us, Rosalie. _Always_."

The meaning behind the last word was undeniable, both in it's truth but also in it's double entendre. The world was still spinning slightly, I vaguely felt tears of my own creating tracks down my cheeks but that last word ran as clear as a bell.

_Checkmate_.

Minutes passed where neither of us could speak, or even would again it seemed. The silence was thick and tangible. Finally one emotion overpowered all the others and made it's way to my voice box.

"Are you happy now, Edward?" I asked quietly, through tightly ground teeth. "Do you feel better for taking what I would not give you, regardless of choice?"

His eyes were darker than before when they opened. "It was only words," he muttered.

"Oh yes, only words. Clever little clause indeed. Nothing but words. Well, I _hope_ you feel better now, having taken what you want instead of asking for what you need."

The force of his glare was like a physical blow. "You think I enjoy _needing_ you? You think I rejoice in being so wholly dependant upon you, when all I want to do is lock myself away forever with thoughts of _her_?"

I snatched at the opportunity.

"Oh, so she has crossed your mind then, has she?"

His upper lips curled into the beginnings of a snarl, before he caught himself and shook it away. "That won't work," he insisted, almost to himself.

"And here I was, thinking you'd reverted to type and were just whiling away the dusty hours with thoughts of your own grief and desolation. So tell me, Edward, what of her remains in your mind, or have you forgotten already?"

"Shut up," he demanded, quietly. "Don't talk about her."

"But you're the one who wants to drown in thought of her, are you not? So come on then, tell me these thoughts."

I was unable to pinpoint exactly when in the last twenty seconds it was that the situation had turned upon it's head, but the certainty that it _had,_ was sufficient.

"You won't win this, Rosalie. I'm better at this than you."

"At finding a weakness and exposing it? There, I believe we are equally matched. And look at you, what a weakness it is. She never was anything but a weakening of your resolve, of your nature, your very character. A leech, feeding off of your strength until you were weak enough to bow to it to admitting that you wanted her, even though she was _your food_."

Something I'd said, probably the last part, made him twitch. Now he was the one who shook and trembled with the effort of self control. "I won't rise to this."

"No, why would you? There's nothing to rise to, is there? You sit up here pretending for all the world that hurting her has broken you apart, when really...it was nothing, was it? Hurting her and leaving her was nothing to you because you never really loved her, did you Edward? She was a place to hide, a sandbank to stick head in while things were tough. You used her and now you have to pretend as though it actually hurt to break her little heart! You _never _loved her!"

He gasped, as though about to scream some kind of response at me but then...then something crossed his face, grey and ashen all at the same time and the tension dropped out of his shoulders. The silent invisible weight of what his own response was about to be, hung heavily between us. I didn't need him to say how much he loved her, how it was his heart that broke too, how he hated himself, blamed himself, missed her, loved her, wanted her with him.

When he began to cry, I had already crawled across the filthy floor to him. By the time his head fell into his arms, my hand was on his back. By the time the first shaking sob left his mouth, I was beside him, silently anchoring him to the place he would need to return to, after he had been allowed to drown in his anguish for as long as he needed to. We were genuinely touching for the first time since leaving Forks. I felt no overwhelming desire or lust pulsating through me; instead, a wrenching, bitter torrent of sadness and regret washed through me in unpredictable waves. His pain, bleeding into me.

And knowing that for him, this was only the beginning, I bore as much as I could stand to.

* * *

_A/N – And once again, this is monstrously late. Well, really I think that at this point a good solid month between updates is what everyone has come to expect. Anywho, this chapter was monstrously difficult to write and managed to dredge up the old Writer's Block which, previously to this, had been blissfully absent. However, I pressed on and VOILA! Kinda. So, here it is._

_First point, you guys are MAGNIFICENT human beings and I love you all, dearly. Alby...gah! Thanks SO much for the amazing review on The Twilight Awards. It was beautiful and flattering beyond what I deserve. Also, Aquarian Girl...love and hugs for the inspiring review, which managed to give me the old Heave Ho out of a particularly nasty spot of WB. Everyone else, massive hugs and love._

_Second point, I did a whole lot of research for the geographical aspects in this chapter, but as I'm an ignorant Brit, feel free to let me know if anything doesn't ring true._

_Third, I've been asked this a lot lately through reviews from anonymous people, which means I can't respond so please allow me to do here. With regards to the ending of this story, I am still as of yet undecided upon the exact machinations of things, though I do know how it will end. There will be one final chapter, thus concluding this monster of a fic which started out as a one-shot, which will go beyond canon into my own realms of reality. In this final chapter I promise this story will end, but as to how it will end I am going to be irksome and not give it away. Will it stay within canon constraints or will Edward and Rosalie finally accept their feelings and flee together? Muhahah. Anyway, it's a ways off yet so no-one has to worry. This story is an integral part of my literary life, at 725 pages, over 250'000 words it's not going to suddenly skip to Breaking Dawn anytime soon._

_So, I hope everyone enjoys this. There were parts I loved, parts I hated but all parts wee necessary to upcoming chapters._

_Review? I know, I know; same old same old. But, as always, I'm on my knees begging for reviews._

_X X X X_

_Bex_

_X X X X_


	37. Chapter 37: Twist, Break, Fuse

**-Chapter Thirty Seven: Twist, Break, Fuse-**

'_And in the dark I could hear your heartbeat,  
__I tried to find the sound.  
__But then it stopped and I was in the darkness,  
__So darkness I became.  
__The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out.  
__You've left me in the dark.  
__No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight,  
__In the shadow of your heart.'_

_-Florence and the Machine_

**-Edward-**

My own pain was starting to reflect in the face of those around me, much to my distorted amusement. It had begun with Esme, the most expressive when it came to any kind of sympathy or concern; evolved into Alice and finally spread to everyone else; visible mainly in fleeting glances and sad smiles. A thick, stifling sympathy was heavy in the air each time I had ventured downstairs. The first time I'd left the attic had coincided with the day decorating and repairs had commenced. I could hear laughter and voices as I made my way down the stairs and then the noises had stopped; they'd sensed my arrival and the atmosphere thickened almost tangibly. I felt like a stranger amongst them; uncomfortable in the presence of my family, for the first time in recollection.

After that, I had been downstairs only a very few times and each of those times had been at the insistence of Rosalie, stating that if I didn't take a bath, she was going to upend and bucket of water over me.

Rosalie was the only person whose eyes I could bear to meet. She didn't look at me as though I had been diagnosed with a terminal disease. She didn't treat me like glass. Her eyes did not reflect my broken heart; hurt, torn and impossibly raw. She treated me almost like normal; showed no favouritism or extra kindness. I took comfort in that, if nothing else, and after a month I was able to leave the attic for a period of time longer than an hour, so long as Rosalie was there with me.

Waiting for the vintage, clawfoot bathtub to fill with scalding hot water, I tried to ignore the thoughts that reached me effortlessly, plaguing any fragile sense of stability I had managed to construct in the few minutes I had been downstairs.

This was my seventeenth time now, leaving the secluded safety of the attic. I spent most of my downstairs time, in the bath. The water had a way of drowning out my thoughts, as well as everyone else's. I would stay under for as long as possible, before someone else would need to use the bathroom. After half an hour, my body would start to cool the red hot water and soon enough, someone would knock politely on the door and I'd have to leave; retreat almost immediately upstairs to take refuge in the darkness and isolation.

My family worried I was becoming a recluse; suffering from some complex form of agoraphobia. I had been hunting a few times, with Emmett and Rosalie, though it was more to satisfy the concerns of Carlisle and Esme than my own hunger. That marked the few occasions I had gone outside the walls of our new house since arriving there. Those occasions had taken supreme amounts of effort.

It was difficult now, to build up the momentum and energy to move. There was so little will power to move; no real desire to stand and exist and involve myself in life. Such things required self-discipline, which was in increasingly short supply. Most days and nights I was content to sit silently and alone, lost inside my mind. Memories and remnants of absent touches; ghosts of kisses and smiles from a girl who had felt warm and real; who was beautifully fragile and everything to my happiness.

Long gone, of course. The light and tentative warmth of what had been happiness was simply gone. It was like being given eyesight for a short time, after being a lifelong blind. I could recall all too well the softness of her warm, tissue thin skin; her scent, her voice, her smile, her hair, her eyes. I'd thought her name so often that it started to sound strange and foreign with too much repetition.

The pain was constant and unending, so much so that I was starting to build an immunity against it. It was always there, no matter what I did. A low humming sound in the back of my mind; an ache in my bones, a tear in the flesh of my soul. I loved her so much...Bella. My Bella was no longer mine.

I shook my head, recognising the danger signals. If I allowed myself to fall too deeply into that deep swell of agony, I would not be able to resurface again without help. And the only person who could help me, my anchor to what remained of this world, was not currently there. It was the first time I had ventured downstairs without her and it had taken me at least an hour to work up the determination, or more accurately the courage, to do so.

Nothing made sense, nothing felt safe, nothing seemed familiar...except for her. _She_ made sense. _She_ felt safe. _She_ was familiar. It was ironic, but not so very unexpected that Rosalie would become my lifeline during such a time. Of all the people around me who knew and loved me, she was the only one I could trust enough to help me. She was the only one who wouldn't lie and tell me things were alright when they weren't. She wouldn't smile or neglect to mention if I left wet towels all over the bathroom floor. She'd shout and yell and make me feel as though I did still exist, because I was pissing her off.

Of all the things in my universe, she was the one thing I leaned into for support. The one thing that could hold me up, hold me together...hold me. I knew on some distant, rational level that I was falling apart. That despite the trips downstairs and the attempts at conversation, I was getting worse. She knew it too and every time it because obvious, every single time it seemed as though my decline was inevitable, she would get angry. She'd scowl and scathe, sitting opposite me in the dark, dusty attic and she'd hurt me just enough to bring out some long lost defences and make me realise I was still there. Make me see I hadn't slipped away just yet.

Sometimes I cried. Moments when my eternal, immortal body was too weak to contain what raged and clawed inside of it, I'd cry. Tears, sobs and breathless gasps to a nonexistent deity, begging for forgiveness that would never come. And Rosalie would be there next to me, the only time she ever touched me now. She'd sit beside me, silent and unmoving. No words, no lies, no pitiful platitudes. She would just be _there_, trying to take as much as of my pain as she could. Sometimes it was enough to regain control, some days it wasn't. But she came and sat with me, regardless. I saw her everyday in the attic. She would come at different times, always with a book. She'd come inside, closing the door behind her and just sit there, reading. Waiting for me to speak if I wanted to. She wanted nothing in exchange, just to be there for me. Just to help me as best she could without giving into that most basic of instincts. I had never seen her so..._human_.

Some days I hated her and I'd tell her as much. Some days I blamed her...for everything. I'd sneer insults and cruelties at her, quietly enough so that no-one could hear it but us. I would accuse her of orchestrating Bella's injury; of trying to separate us. I told her I didn't love her and never would and that she would never compare to Bella. And she would just turn the page, trying not to ignore me but more to let what I was saying simply pass her by. It hurt her, I knew from the resonance of her mind, but she never left. Never retorted. That temper, so ready to spring forward if I was too silent or too still for too long, was nowhere to be seen. She would not discourage any emotion I was feeling, regardless of what it did to her.

I wondered why she was bothering; I was fading away and it must have been obvious to everyone around us, not least of her all her. One day she would go up to the attic, book in hand, and I would simply be gone. Too lost inside my own mine, too far away to be reached.

But then, I reasoned, I imagined our situation reversed and knew I could never conceive of giving up on her. I'd have done whatever it took to keep her there with me, no matter how much it hurt us both.

It had been fifty eight days after I had left Forks, time was becoming cryptic and obscure. Minutes blurred into hours, melted into days. I lost all ability to track it with any sense of accuracy. I lost many abilities, most of them sensory. I found myself reduced to something resembling a human state. Limited to basic sight, sound and sensation. Time had really been the last thing to go; I had always been able to keep impeccable track of the moments that passed, often because it was a refined form of torture. But now, I was detached to a damaging degree. Now I had to see a clock to know what time of day it was. I relied upon others to tell me which day of the week it was, if I had cared to ask.

The world, it seemed, was fading away.

Or perhaps not; perhaps, instead, I was the one fading away.

Carlisle thought it was a defence technique, brought about by the shock of it all. He thought I was numbing myself from the pain, distancing myself from the guilt. In truth, I was locking myself away with it. Outside of that blurring existence, where only agony and loathing kept me company, there might have been hope. Outside of that, there was help ready and waiting. Only it was slipping away.

Or, again, _I_ was slipping away.

I couldn't explain it. Surely I had been in worse pain than this; to even think of what Rosalie had inflicted upon me, and worse, what I had inflicted upon her was to shudder in horror. And yet, I had never lost roots in reality. I had never felt _this_. The reasons behind it were too much to even contemplate.

Whatever it was, it was winning. Heartbreak and utter desolation the likes of which I had never experienced...I had no comparison for it. A grey, sickly cloud of darkness and despair crushing the unnatural life from within me. It would eventually reign triumphant over me; I could feel as much.

The only thing that had prevented it thus far, was Rosalie. Her stubborn insistences and anger grounded me, gave me hope. Her determination was unshakable. It was painfully obvious that she would die before allowing me to fall into what was devouring me, piece by piece.

One little part of me at a time, eaten and gone forever and a sly, quiet whisper; _'Where is your redemption now, monster?'_

"Edward," a voice was calling. It sounded far away; an echo. "Edward!"

"Hmm?" I managed, still trying to pull myself out of the foggy recesses of my torturous mind. The greyness reluctantly released a small amount of attention and I realised I was in the bathroom.

"Edward, there's water coming under the door. Are you alright?"

It was Emmett's voice, calling to me. It took a full minute for me to process his words and drag myself back into reality. Slowly, dazed, I looked down. The bath was overflowing. The floor was covered in water, pushing itself under the small gap underneath the locked door.

"Oh," I said. "Sorry."

"Can I...?" he hesitated. "Can I come in?"

I looked down at myself to check if I was still dressed. "Yes."

The door opened cautiously and then he came in, heading straight for the bath. He turned off the faucets and pulled the plug. I heard water sloshing around his shoes and, for the first time, felt it around my bare toes. Noisily, the water began to drain away; untouched and clean, never having fulfilled it's purpose.

I looked up at my brother and felt a vague, distant pang of sympathy for him. Though he didn't exactly have Rosalie's method of making me feel like I was still really here, he was the most bearable of all the others. He was dressed beautifully, I realised. Armani suit, loose collared shirt and very expensive shoes. A hand to his eyes and sighed a deep, shuddering sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said, breathing oddly. "We shouldn't have...we should have been here."

"You look nice," I said, marvelling at how detached I sounded, and felt. "What's the occasion?"

He shook his head, removing the hand so I could see his eyes. "Nothing," he dismissed, shaking water off his sleeve. "Nothing important."

"Your anniversary," I realised, having heard it in his mind. "Of course. I forgot."

"We shouldn't have gone," he muttered to himself. "Should have listened to her."

So that's where Rosalie had been. In hindsight, someone had told me this but it hadn't sunk in. I'd heard that she was going out, that was all that really mattered. A prickle of fresh guilt rolled over me, but it barely even registered compared to the rest.

Emmett sat on the edge of the bath, surveying me with worried eyes. I looked away, hating that expression in the eyes of those I loved. I longed for the safety of the attic, but it would just worry him even more if I suddenly bolted out of the room.

"Edward," he sighed and I steeled myself for whatever was coming. This was his rarely heard '_Adult Voice'_. "I can't even begin to express how worried we all are about you."

I pulled the shutters at the forefront of my mind, locking myself away from his words. Words that would make everything so much worse. Words I couldn't hear. Words that would make me even more of a stranger to him than I already was. Maybe he saw it in my eyes, because he reached out to me, gently prodding my shoulder. I could see his lips moving now, vaguely make out his shape and colour, but it was largely silent except for a rushing noise in my ears.

Then he looked up sharply, attention pulled elsewhere and he stood. He left my peripheral vision, but I didn't trust myself enough to lower the shutters; he was probably talking to Carlisle or someone about how worried he was; about how I was slipping away.

Things were blurring around the edges, losing focus. I wasn't controlling it now; it was happening of it's own accord. It might have continued until nothing remained, but there was a sudden pressure on my arm and then what little remained of the world tilted at a funny angle. I was being yanked up to a standing position. Hands pulled my chin up and my blurred eyes were filled with light.

Rosalie.

The relief would have been embarrassing if I'd had the energy to care. Almost immediately, focus began to form and sound began to return; the deep rushing noises fading into nothingness. Her voice was coming in speaking harsh, short sentences.

She was painfully beautiful; dressed in black to match Emmett. I barely had time to take in what she was wearing before her words reached my mind.

"...stupid, dim witted moron," she was saying. "_Literally_ can't even run a bath."

"Rose," Emmett pleaded. "Don't be angry, please..."

"Bad enough the mess he makes with towels, and now he's trying to flood the place? No, Emmett. It's _not_ alright at all. Why was no-one with him? God knows if he's going to keep acting like a child, he's going to need supervision."

Look at her...making me feel stupid, childish, ashamed. All emotions that had roots in this reality. Each painful word strengthening the ties I had to this plane; each admonishment steadying me a little more. No-one knew me like Rosalie.

"Well, come on then!" she snapped at me, thrusting something into my hands. A towel. "You can help clean it up. I suppose you'll enjoy it, as it involved soaking wet towels on the floor."

"Rosalie, maybe this isn't..."

"I swear he's got a vendetta against this floor."

"_Rosalie_..."

"Will you shut up and get more towels?"

Emmett left with an exasperated sigh and I dropped to my knees to help her clean the sodden floor. I noticed that her dress, doubtlessly expensive, was getting soaked in the process. Her curls were starting to fall out and her shoes were more or less ruined. She met my eyes with no hesitation whatsoever.

"You are _not_ a child, Edward. You know as well as I do how to run a Goddamned bath, so stop acting so...retarded!" She lifted a sopping wet towel over the bath and rung it out; the water crashed heavily into the now empty bath, trickling away down the drain. "You shouldn't have come downstairs without me," she added, much more quietly.

'_I shouldn't have left,'_ she thought. _'I won't leave you again.'_

I watched the water invade the dryness of the towel beneath me and said, "It was your anniversary. You deserve to be happy."

"Oh just shut up and mop the floor," she snapped, but I could detect no genuine anger or nastiness in her mind. Only determination to keep me there with her. "Genius level IQ, photographic memory and you can't even _run a bath!"_

"I lost track," I told her, as defensively as possible. Building up the energy to be seriously offended was almost impossible, but her involvement and effort warranted an attempt, surely.

"Well keep track then! It's not rocket science, is it?"

Now it was obvious that beneath the exterior, she felt nothing of what she was saying. Not really. But she seemed to know what was required to keep me grounded and I wasn't about to question her methods; not when they were the only things keeping me remotely sane.

We mopped the floor in silence for a few more minutes until Emmett came back with more towels. He dropped them on the floor and then knelt down to help.

"Esme was...uh, not pleased about me using her towels," he said, half jokingly.

If he had encountered Esme that meant I had only seconds before...

"Oh, Edward!" Her lovely voice sounded surprised, as if she had not expected it to be me in the bathroom mopping the floor. A brief scan of her mind told me that Emmett hadn't told her exactly _who_ had made the mess and she had assumed, not without credibility, that Rosalie and Emmett had created the flood in a fit of anniversary bath-time passion. It was almost..._almost_...funny.

"It's OK, Mom," Emmett said, throwing yet another sopping wet towel into the bathtub. "Just a little accident."

"You didn't say it was..." Esme trailed off, obviously unsure of how to finish that. "Well, you didn't say what exactly had happened."

"Like I said, just a accident."

"Yes, well that's fine. Make sure to put the towels straight in the washer after you're done." There was a very pregnant pause as the three of us diligently removed all traces of water from the pristine marble floor. Esme was still behind us, deliberating over something. "Edward," she said, finally deciding upon the best course of action. "You don't have to clean that up, honey. Why don't you come with me and we can-?"

"-No." Rosalie's rebuff was unusually short. I struggled to recall her ever speaking to Esme in such a manner. "It's his mess. He has to clean it up."

I looked up from the floor, over to Rosalie. Tight lipped, stern faced and practically translucent with determination. I extended the reach of gift as far as it would go, until I was bordering something not unlike Jasper's ability. It was like stretching out an arm, trying to physically grow your fingertips just to reach the object of your desire. Reaching into her mind in such a way probably constituted a violation of some sort, but the energy to care was long gone. Focusing it in such a way, I could almost _feel_ her. I wanted, very badly, to _feel_ her.

'_Stop it, Edward,'_ she chided me, mopping even harder. I sensed, but could not _quite_ feel her determination to keep me moving, involved, engaged. The isolation remained, I was trapped by it. Caught in a cage of numbness and anaesthesia; if only I could _feel_ something, other than my own hellish torments.

After a few more glorious moments of seeing so far into her mind I could have stumbled into it, I reluctantly pulled away. I returned to my own mind; cold and desolate, filled with twisted ghosts and vicious guilt. Missed opportunities eating away at me, like acid through metal. Moments left untouched, untaken; times I could have held Bella more, kissed her more, loved her more. And that, of course, was only the surface of things.

"...even hear me? Edward! You can stop now, man. The floor's all dry. See?"

Emmett's hand on mine reached my brain before his voice did. I shook myself and realised he was right; I was scrubbing dry floor with a wet towel. Rosalie sighed and snatched the dripping cloth from my loose fingers, flinging it into the bathtub.

"Sorry," I said; a selected phrase from the autopilot section of my mind. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Rosalie said, nodding. She seemed to be seeing through the bathtub now; seeing a place that certainly wasn't our bathroom. Her glare was magnificent; I found myself drawn to it, wishing I was the focal point of it's brilliance and sheer violence. Maybe it would have penetrated the thick, foggy exterior that kept me disconnected from almost everything nowadays. "Sorry."

"Babe, maybe we should uh...y'know," Emmett unsubtly hinted. Rosalie didn't look away from where she was staring, nostrils flaring a little as she breathed in and out. Furious certainly suited her.

"No," she said after a minute. "He doesn't need to hunt."

"How do you do that?" I asked on a whim. "You always know what the other is thinking."

"Anyone gifted with eyesight would see that you're about five minutes away from collapsing with starvation, plus Emmett is unsubtle to an embarrassing degree. I think you're lending romance to a rather unromantic set of events," was her stone cold answer.

"Hey!" Emmett yelped indignantly. "I am _not_ deeply unsubtle!"

She rolled her eyes and the trance seemed broken. "Oh please."

"Name one time when I've been unsubtle," he insisted, pushing up on his knees to match her, as she drew herself to full height.

A tiny smile cracked at the corners of her mouth. "The first time you proposed."

"That was..._what? _You knew about that?"

"You kept making hints about it being this '_really special night_' that I'd _'never, ever forget'_. What did you expect?"

Their banter faded away a little as a memory began to push itself to the forefront of my mind. Something was most definitely relevant there, had my mind been clearer I could reach it...

Ah yes.

The night Emmett proposed.

_"He's going to propose, you know."_

_She stopped, mid motion and looked at me in the mirror. "Yes," she said finally, laying the hairbrush down on the desk. "I know."_

_I was restless, pacing behind her. "And?"_

_She glared at me in the mirror. "And what?"_

_"Are you going to say yes?"_

_I saw her swallow once, before answering. "Of course."_

_The pain hit me right in the chest, straight in the lungs. I knew I'd gasped, because I saw her flinch a little in the mirror before she shook it off. _

_"What did you expect, Edward?"_

When I opened my eyes, things were a little clearer than before. I could feel that my knees were wet, my toes were bare against the tiles and that my hair was thick with dust and dirt. The air tasted strange, foreign even. Rain was coming a few miles away. There were mice somewhere, maybe beneath the foundations of the house. Emmett's cologne was the one I had given him as a gift twelve years ago. Rosalie's hair had gotten wet with rain at some point in the evening; they had been outside. It was evening, ten thirty nine if I adjusted the time zone. We were near water, a lake.

I gasped, slightly shocked at the sudden inundation of data and sensation. I looked down at my hands, still moist with bath water, and found I couldn't stop staring at them. They were fascinating, as though I'd never seen them before.

The pain of that memory still burned in my chest; a bitter, sharp taste in the back of my throat. It was a wholly different pain to the incessant ache I was growing almost accustomed to.

And then it began to fade away again. The world blurred around the edges, things went back to being quieter and less colourful. Vivid details made themselves hidden once more and that familiar glass wall that detached me from the world came sliding down once again.

What had happened?

The sudden energy I had felt was gone instantly. Had I dreamed the whole incident? I had suffered from day hallucinations before this, so it would be setting no precedent if I had. But still, I couldn't be losing my mind that quickly, could I?

Confused, I stood up. The full weight of Rosalie's sudden attention hit me hard, disorientating my muddled brain.

'_Something's different, something just changed. Is he OK? Oh God, please, please don't take him from me. I just need more time, I need a little more time to figure out what will bring him back. He looks the same, but damnit _something_ was different, I swear it!'_

"Are you still with us?" she asked tightly; an interesting contradiction between the internal and external. She and Emmett had been standing close together, playfully bantering. Emmett turned and gave me a quick up and down.

"Yeah, you look kinda...well..._dizzier_."

"I should go upstairs," I managed to get out, feeling off balance to a degree that was worrying. "It's too...I need to go upstairs."

"Sure, I'll help you," Emmett offered instantly, reaching out to help me as if I were an elderly, injured man.

"No," Rosalie forbade, suddenly.

Emmett threw a confused look at his wife, frowning. "What?"

"He should have a bath. I'll supervise him while he's running it."

Emmett made a rare sound of disgust. "Goddamn it, Rosalie! You're not his _Mother!_"

Her mouth thinned with grim determination. "If he goes upstairs now it'll take days for him to come back down again and he needs a bath! Put him down and leave."

Even I, distant and detached as I was, winced at that.

"Excuse me?" Emmett asked, slowly.

She squared up, not the least bit intimidated. "I'm pretty sure I said put him down," which was the first time I realised Emmett was half holding me up. "And _leave_. What part of that was too subtle for you?"

Man and wife glared at one another for a few heated, dangerous moments before I landed on the side of the bath with an audible 'plonk!' and Emmett stormed off.

When he was gone, Rosalie shut the door and sighed. Without a word, she went to the bath and began wringing out the remaining towels. I watched her silently as she twisted the material so hard it groaned. When they were nothing but damp, she put the plug back in the bath and began to run the water. She sat beside me on the side of the tub, not touching me at all. But still close.

"Happy anniversary?" I offered weakly.

She snorted, tossing her hair a little. Such a familiar gesture, though it was an echo of it's former glory now. "I'll make it up to him next year. He'll understand. He always does."

Part of me knew I should warn her not to take his kindness and understanding for granted; but again, lacking energy prevented me from doing so.

"You look nice," I said after another bout of quietness.

"I look," she said, but not without a trace of dry humour. "Like a drowned rat."

"But the prettiest drowned rat of them all."

Her tiny little laugh made the effort of that comment all worth it. The water behind was soothing; maybe that was how I'd let it spill over before. The sounds were soothing, a little _too_ soothing. All rushing softness and the promise of silence once submerged.

"Hey," she said, not a little sharply, her eyes suddenly locked onto mine. "Stay here. You got that? Stay _here_."

I let my head drop down a little, it felt _so_ heavy. "What's the point?" I mumbled. "Stay and do what? Listen to how guilty I'm making everyone feel? See how I'm destroying the lives of my family now? Why should I stay, Rosalie? Please tell me."

"I will not even dignify that with a response," she stated in a tone that brokered no room for argument. "When you've finished your Leonard Cohen tribute act, then I'll answer that question; when it's rephrased."

I chuckled. "Leonard Cohen?"

"Oh didn't you hear? He killed himself listening to _you_."

"I seem to have that effect on people."

She made an expressive sound, quite revolted. "Good God, Edward get a grip just a tiny little bit, will you? No-one has killed themselves over you, quite yet. Bella - _yes_ I'm saying her name, stop flinching! _Bella_ hasn't killed herself. She's probably in her room, listening to some sappy, tragic love song on repeat."

It took a massive concentration of all my efforts not to shut out what she'd said from the moment she mentioned Bella's name. Now that I'd heard it, the unnamed fear was in the back of my throat, about to whistle past my lips.

"What if she does?" I almost choked. "I can't even...what if...?"

"Stop it," she instructed, sternly. "You're making things a thousand times worse. Just _stop_ torturing yourself. Please."

"Little bit late for that, no?"

She exhaled through her teeth. "I'm not saying things aren't bad. They are. But for Christ's sake, Edward; you don't have to make it worse. I can barely cope with this, please don't add some fresh hell to it."

I wanted to thank her. I wanted to say how sorry I was. I wanted to be able to say it and have the words come out right. I couldn't.

"Are you going to stay and watch me in the bath?" I settled on, aware of the awful timing in attempting levity.

She threw my a wry look, genuine emotion buried behind it. "Are you going to be able to run it without flooding the house?"

"Was that a question of ability or inclination?"

"Edward," she sighed. "Please be serious."

"It was a joke, Rosalie. Yes, I can run a bath."

Her mind, so close to my own, was so soothing. She and she alone had perfected a method of controlling her voice within her mind; the mental equivalent of whispering or humming. I took solace where I could and let my mind be swayed and hushed by hers until I was unknowingly leaning into her.

I only realised this when she reached behind me and turned off the faucet. The bath was run now; she would leave.

A pause as she considered whether it was actually safe to leave me alone. She decided to give me _some_ credit. "I'll be back in half an hour."

"I'm hardly going to drown," I pointed out, without energy. Leaning into her had felt wonderful. Physically, mentally; wonderful in every way possible. Without it, I felt bereft and even worse than before.

"Half an hour," she reminded me, rising without so much as another glance in my general direction. The door closed behind her and she was gone.

I was alone.

Again.

Hardly an unexpected prospect, really, considering my actions.

I stripped of what little remained of my clothes, letting them fall in a messy heap, and then climbed gracefully into the deep, beautiful bath. The grace of my movements was not conscious; something innate and ingrained upon me. The poise and carriage of felines; predators. Fluid and silent by nature, lest our prey detect our approach. It served as a wonderful reminder of why I was destined to be alone. Why I _should_ be alone.

Monster. I was a monster.

Carlisle could call us immortals all he wanted; the truth was glaringly obvious. We were monsters. Vampires. We killed, drank blood, murdered and clawed into flesh to feed. Monsters did not deserve happiness, and most certainly not at the cost of innocence.

Though she had been my redemption, my chance for all goodness and light...it could not come at the risk of her life.

So I would be alone. As all demons were destined to be.

Alone.

The word was loud, stabbing. It sliced through me with the strength born of genuine hatred. It's resonance was the uneven screech of nails down a chalkboard, destroying any calm. Any chance of peace.

The water was scalding hot; a human would have been in agony, but to my cold, dead body it was pleasantly warm. I sank deeper and deeper until my ears brushed the surface. I exhaled my last breath and then sank totally beneath. The water became a cocoon; a velvety shroud, wrapping me up and hiding me away from the world just outside the small space. Thick and heavy, I relished the comfort of the water. Strange, that something as simple as a bath had become such a means of relief.

I felt a little less alone once fully submerged. I forcefully exhaled the last small remnants of oxygen from my body and allowed gravity it's claim over me as I sank and remained at the very bottom of the deep tub.

But a few minutes later, the silence I had grown so accustomed to...the silence I had come to rely on, was breached.

At first I dismissed it. Shutting my mind off took a little while and I chalked it up to lack of concentration. I focused hard on the blackness that would soon surround me, and waited for it to settle in.

Only it didn't.

I heard voices. Thoughts. Memories. Not all my own.

_Bella's soft snoring, the way she would subconsciously sweep her hair behind her ears. Her sleepy smile upon waking and seeing me there. _

Monster. Watching her sleep. Vile, repulsive monster.

_"Is that what you dream about? Being a monster?"_

"_Mostly I dream about being with your forever."_

"_Bella, I _will_ stay with you – isn't that enough?"_

_I will stay. _

_Stay. _

I hadn't stayed. I had gone, left her alone. I hadn't been able to get away from the forest fast enough before I'd heard her hit the ground. The gasps that emanated from her delicate little throat. Her heart going wild, unsteady. I had left her all alone, broken her heart.

Broken mine.

"_Don't leave me."_

"_I won't."_

Liar. Despicable, evil liar. Unworthy.

It was loud in my head. Louder than it should have been. This had worked so many times before, why wouldn't it work now?

Memories on a loop flashed before my eyes; light in the darkness and I flinched away uselessly. Blood on my hands, I licked it away both loving and despising myself. Flesh under my fingernails, tiny fragments of bone on my boots. So many had died that I might drink and consume their blood. Watching that first person die...seeing the light leave their eyes, life obeying entropy. Nothing would redeem me. Nothing would save me.

And then there had been Bella. Maybe I was less of a monster, because she – a beautiful, innocent human – could love me. Each day with her was a day in the purest of light. Each moment with her had cleansed me, made me feel...decent.

'_Where is your redemption now, monster?'_

That whisper again, laughing and cruel. I knew where it was coming from, it was getting louder. Soon it would be a scream. Soon I would fade away, dissolved by pain and that _thing_ within would take control.

But no, I would not allow that. I couldn't allow that. The water was my refuge. It was the only thing I had left, it had to help...I would make it.

I opened my mouth and sucked in the water.

It was deeply uncomfortable. The water flooded into my lungs, down my throat. The sensation turned painful, but not nearly enough to distract me from the cacophony within. Dangerously determined now, I pushed the water back out again and this time closed my mouth, but breathed in through my nose.

The effect was instantaneous. Water filled my nasal cavity, flowing slowly but steadily into my cranium. Vaguely I wondered, as the water filled my skull, if I could actually die like this. What if the water doused the synapses sufficiently that they wouldn't fire? Maybe this was the answer to my problem. Silence at last.

It seemed amusing, right up until everything ceased to be.

* * *

_The evolution of change is much like evolution itself. Mostly it is gradual, unseen alterations. The constant axis of the planet's invisible rotations. Slow, unnoticeable growth or plants and trees. Oceans rising, populations growing, temperatures changing little by little. But every now and then, something unexpected will happen and that slow, paced evolution takes a leap. Sometimes amazing discoveries are made in the name of science, altering the way we perceive ourselves and the universe. Sometimes it is an aberrant alteration within a species of animal. Sudden change takes hold and all the world stops and stares as new laws are written and the previous ones fall obsolete. _

_Change can happen at anytime, for any reason. Usually when one least expects it to. _

_One and a half thousand years ago, a new humanoid species began to slowly, secretly emerge. The origins of this glittering, lethal breed remain unknown, but the evidence can be tracked to more or less around this time. There is no species in between these two; vampires and humans. No half measures. Simply two beings, sharing a joint ancestry but little else. This is a sparkling example of how evolution sometimes outdoes itself. Skipping a few hundred, maybe even thousand years worth of gradual alteration in favour of the new, dangerous version. _

_Vampires are mercurial beings, at a cellular level. Indeed, their bodies are diamond hard and indestructible. Yet, to one another, they are soft. They don't age, and yet they learn and change, endlessly. Their emotional control is often greater than humans, but they feel so much more. They are connected to all things dark, each and every one of them in possession of a gift of some sort. Sometimes these gifts lay dormant within; the full potential of the ability having never been discovered. The laws of these things are tricky to pin down; mercurial is an apt description indeed. The overt abilities, i.e. mind reading, mind control, divination, healing, light bending etc, are usually obvious from the inception. A mind reader knows he is a mind reader, because he can hear thoughts. _

_Some of these dazzling killers appear less gifted; mundane even, by comparison. Yet it is a relatively unknown truth that within them lies a gift; untapped, unused. Perhaps there is no necessity for it, but it exists nonetheless. _

_And still change can come about when it is least expected. Life, eternal or otherwise, if made up of a few key moments that change everything. _

_A dormant, redundant ability is all well and good...unless, of course, it would be very badly needed. _

_The evolution of change is made of shock, desperation and fear. We push our capabilities further than imaginable, for these reasons. Change is an unstoppable force and just as destructive. We are never ready, never able to see it coming. _

_A dangerous road to walk for a human. _

_And even more so for a vampire. _

* * *

For an immeasurable amount of time, there was nothing. Nothingness so complete, I wasn't even aware of it.

But then...

The world thundered and shook. The very foundations of the planet trembled and vibrated with the sheer energy of whatever was trying to erupt beneath it.

Hell, I supposed, was coming to get me.

Clearly, I had died in the bathtub. It seemed interesting, almost intriguing that such amazing creatures of duration and strength could be so easily undone and ultimately destroyed by something as basic as water.

The blackness was thick and heavy, but I was thinking...I was aware. I could feel. So death was not, as Alice remained convinced, simply the end of all things. It was not a lack of consciousness; eternal darkness and silence.

Though I was indeed surrounded by a shroud of silence and darkness, I was aware that I did, on some level, exist.

The thunderous _boom_ shook me again. The world, beyond my vision, felt as though it was breaking apart. Something punching it's way through.

Yes, it was obvious. I had died and soon, I would be in hell with other soulless demons. It was no more than I deserved.

I waited, enduring the silence with a resignation akin to hopelessness when the next jarring earthquake hit me, only this time it was centred more in my solar plexus. My chest heaved and convulsed and a wrenching current of agony coursed through me.

Hell. Pain. Torment. Punishment.

What I deserved.

It happened again, only this time I saw light. A flash of white, gone in an instant but I had seen it nonetheless. What was happening? Now my chest felt heavy, broken somehow. Genuine pain registered with me; actual, physical pain.

And then, like a pin dropping, I heard the faintest of sounds. The minute noise grew louder, stronger. It grew deafening.

Hell was certainly not lacking in creativity.

The next blow seemed to shatter my ribs; crush my body to such a degree that I thought I might actually come apart. I saw light, only this time it didn't vanish. It threatened to fade, but then the next blow came swiftly and cracked bones, splintered them violently. The light remained, blurred swirls of white and grey that moved around me. Figures, perhaps. The pain sent my mind screaming and suddenly the urge to breath was horrifically powerful, made even worse when it was denied. My lungs did not work, they would never work again.

The final blow must have gone all the way through me. Punched a hole clean through my chest because the pain of it made me cry out and the moment I did that, I regurgitated a mass of water. The ringing sound stabilised and I could detect actual, individual sounds. The agony now residing within my broken body made me tremble, want to be sick.

I felt my fingertips twitch as I continued to cough and spit out water. It came in cold rivulets from my nose, out of my mouth and onto the floor. The floor...I felt the floor, ice cold against my cheek. Someone had turned me on my side. I was laying on the floor. Someone...that meant there were other people.

I wasn't dead.

Sound distilled itself, through my vision stubbornly refused to do so.

"...still inside him, he's not fully responsive!"

"Given time, it should trickle out of his ears."

"Should? Should is _not_ good enough!"

"Rosalie, calm down. He'll be fine."

"All my fault, shouldn't have left him. What's _wrong_ with me?"

The words were distant and echoing; I could vaguely tell who was speaking. My father, Carlisle. I loved my father. So kind, so understanding...

And Rosalie. Rosalie...

The very name lit a spark of something in my brain. I opened my eyes, seeing the outline of the bathtub I had tried to drown in. Rosalie, Rosalie, Rosalie...

My brain exploded.

It must have quite literally _exploded_. Nothing else could account for the sudden lethal pain within my skull. I coughed, afraid I would actually vomit from the sheer intensity of it. My spine curled in on itself and I hunched myself together, retching and clutching at my head. I couldn't even scream, it took my breath away completely.

"Oh God, Edward. Just breathe slowly, nice and slowly. It'll pass, you'll see."

Carlisle's loving lies did not bring an end to the raging, atomic agony within my head. It shredded at my nerves, chewed on each and every filament of my being and screamed in delight as it tore me to pieces.

"It's not working, get Jasper here right now! Call him, he's the only one who can help. Carlisle, please. Please, just call him."

"She's right." Emmett's voice was barely distinguishable over the torture within. "But Christ, Rose; Jasper's a while away. Look at him! He's not gonna make it!"

Irony once again. I had been rescued from the brink of a peaceful, quiet death only to die in screaming, violent agony.

I tore at my hair, trying to pull my skull apart to release whatever pressure was within. I would rip myself to pieces if only it could stop this. Something was happening to me here, something I'd never felt except during those three days I had become what I was now. I had never thought anything could possibly match _that_, but apparently I had been wrong.

_I'm dying,_ I thought. _I'm going to die, right here on this floor. _

For all my depression and melancholia, I was suddenly terrified. I didn't want to die, I didn't want to simply fade away and be forgotten. The fear made me retch again, and my head exploded some more sending shockwaves of fresh, white hot agony through my entire body.

Dying, dying, dying, dying...it was ridiculous...I was dying.

And then...just as there was enough air to start screaming, something cool and soft slipped into my mind. Like a gloved hand, reaching into a fire. I could feel it, I focused hard upon it. It was the most beautiful shade of gold I had ever seen in my existence. A swirling strand of something pure and lovely; everything it touched within my mind, began to calm itself.

'_Edward_,' it whispered. '_Stay. Stay. I'll help you.'_

The agony in my head began to subside, but after a few moments of lessened pain, whatever it was causing it latched onto the fact that something was helping me. The throbbing intensified massively, unbearably and my nervous system threatened to shut down entirely. Though anything would have been preferable to this, I was still frightened of dying. I did not want to die, I wasn't ready.

Another sliver of gold appeared now, shaped almost like an arm. There were two, reaching and touching those parts of me that demanded self destruction. It was like a chemical fire being doused with ice water.

'_I'm right here, inside you. I'll make it stop, you'll see.'_

I knew the voice. I knew the hands. I knew the colour. Though I didn't dare take my hands from my head, nor open my eyes, I knew very well who it was.

After an inestimable amount of time, the pain subsided enough that some of my muscles began to relax. My body became susceptible to sensation once more. I felt a hand on my face, one on my shoulder. I felt the cold air all around me, I felt the damp towel someone had draped over me.

Maybe it had been hours, days even, but the pain was leaving. My mind, ragged and raw, was no longer self destructing.

And those gold threads, they didn't pull back straight away. Didn't pull away, not even when the very last drop of pain was soothed away. Not even when Rosalie's hands left my skin, did they withdraw from my mind. I _felt_ (and that should have been my first warning) that she didn't trust me enough to fully leave me alone just yet.

I _felt_ that she couldn't take much more of this. I _felt_, not heard, that her own heart was breaking, _broken_, for me. I _felt_ how terrified she had been, upon kicking the door down and seeing me lying there in the bottom of the bathtub, unmoving and still. I saw and _felt_ her terror as she pulled me out, slapping me hard to wake me up. I _felt_ her break when I refused to react. I saw her slamming her fist down onto my chest to make me cough up the water. I _felt_ her frustration and despair each and every time she did this and nothing happened. I _felt_ her blinding relief when I had finally coughed up half the bathtub, taking a screaming, gurgling breath.

The pain was almost gone now, but something was different. My mind was moving slowly, but functioning adequately enough to know that this was not normal. Something had changed. Those two golden threads merged into one and for the time begin, simply sat inside my mind; tired, drained of their energy.

"Edward," Emmett was saying. "Can you hear us? Don't worry, Jasper's coming! He'll help you!"

"I think," Rosalie panted, surprisingly out of breath. "He's better now."

"What? How?"

"I don't know, but he's not twitching and clawing at his own skull anymore. Maybe it's receding."

The gold inside my mind made a very distinct, but beautifully quiet, '_Shhh,' _sound. I _felt_ that it was a secret. That was most definitely new. Alarmingly so, if I'd had a scrap of energy left to be actually alarmed.

Emmett sounded wrung out. "Christ, I hope so."

For the first time since becoming a vampire (and for the first time in our recorded existence) I felt extraordinarily tired. I felt as though I could actually have slept. I closed my eyes, body tingling and trembling all over. I breathed slow, shallow breaths. My lungs felt like jelly; crushed, useless lumps of tissue that failed to absorb the air. My ribs were undoubtedly broken, but they were already starting to knit together. I was partly amazed that my usually impervious, unbreakable body had been...well...broken. Testament to one of Carlisle's theories; we could be broken only by ones such as ourselves.

"We should move him," she said after a few moments. "Emmett, wrap him up in something and take him to our room."

I was about to protest that I didn't need to go to their room, because the impropriety of that was blindingly obvious, even to me. But of course, I realised in time to state my objection, I didn't have a room yet. The only place I had in this whole house that was remotely mine, was the dusty attic.

Feeling like a small, stupid child, I allowed Emmett to lift me up, wrap me in a large white towel and then physically pick me up and carry me, princess style, away from the bathroom which, in my opinion, had seen far too much for one day.

* * *

The journey there was strange and a few times I felt as though I was going to lose consciousness. A terrifying prospect indeed as I hadn't experienced anything remotely resembling such a state for well over eighty years now. I was afraid that if I lost consciousness, I might never wake up again. Once I tried to regain some fractional amount of dignity, and demanded that Emmett set me down and allow me to walk. The moment he let me attempt to stand on my own two feet, I stumbled and crashed ungracefully to the floor. My legs felt like the bone had been transformed into lukewarm jelly; they refused flat out to cooperate in any way whatsoever. Emmett tapped his foot impatiently as I lay, sprawled over the cream carpet until I groaned inwardly and allowed him to pick me up again.

Though it could never be said that the house in Forks had been anything resembling small, this house was vastly larger. It reminded me of an old house we had lived in, many years ago. There weren't just rooms; there were wings. Whole areas of the house with their own little subsections of rooms. By no small amount of intention, Emmett and Rosalie's room was in the further room of the east wing. My journey there marked the first time I had been in this part of the house. I found myself somewhat impressed, in a rather distracted manner. Being carried by Emmett, like some wounded damsel, dampened my interest somewhat.

When we arrived, finally, at two large double doors at the end of a seemingly endless corridor, he kicked open the doors without breaking stride. I heard the wood splinter and crack around the hinges.

To my great surprise, there was a bed. Not just any bed, either. A very large, exotic four poster bed. Black wooden pillars, decorated by purple voile hangings. Plum, gold and burgundy silk sheets and duvets covered the large emperor sized mattress. I was about to enquire as to it's existence in their room, when I was unceremoniously dropped on top of it.

"Hey!" I managed weakly, rearranging the towel so I had a little more dignity.

"Don't '_hey'_ me," Emmett said, tightly. He vanished through a door in the back corner of the room, returning a few seconds later with a t-shirt and trousers which were flung none too kindly at me.

I pulled the t-shirt on, wincing a little as I moved my head too fast. He glanced in my direction, frowning.

"You OK?"

"Fine, I just...it's a little like whiplash."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leant back against the wall, determinedly _not_ impressed. When I was fully dressed, I folded the towel up neatly into a perfect rectangle and then placed it on the desk beside the mysterious bed. The desk was Rosalie's; she insisted on dragging it everywhere we went. I gave the room a once over, mildly amused at how obvious Rosalie's mood prevailed over her decorating ideas.

Whereas in Forks, she had opted for gentler colours; muted pastels and warm creams, here she had rather let her dark creativity run away with her. It was perhaps what one would expect from a person such as Rosalie; purple, black, gold. Fairy lights around a mirror, a few candles lit and scattered around. She'd bought herself a new piano; most of the candles resided near or on top of it. Pictures on the dark purple wall; all her favourites. Three _Monet's_, a rather obscure, unknown _Dali_ and a _John William Waterhouse_. A stunning black Persian rug, upon which she had thrown a procession of clothes and not bothered to pick them up again. The desk she took everywhere sat in the corner, lonely and resigned to her sudden change of tastes. The door to the far end, across from the two massive bay windows, hidden almost completely by black velvet curtains, was as I suspected, a walk in wardrobe. I scanned the room for some evidence, other than his scent, that Emmett actually resided in her with her.

"Well?" he prompted, suddenly.

I blinked, it hurt to do so.

"Sorry?"

For the first time, I realised that he was furious.

"You tried to kill yourself. I'd like to know, if it's not too much trouble, what the _hell_ you were thinking?" he growled.

I felt very suddenly like a stupid, attention seeking teenager. The exhaustion was wearing off to be replaced instantly with deep embarrassment and shame.

"I wasn't..." but the lie trailed off, unfinished. What was the point of lying? "I'm sorry."

He swallowed, it seemed very loud. "Don't you dare apologise," he half whispered. "Don't make this about _us_. This is about you, Edward. Rosalie was right. I should have listened, I just...I didn't think it was this bad. I knew you were upset, dealing with it the way you deal with everything. Badly. Overreacting, self indulgent angst and bullshit. I mean, if I'd known it was this bad..._I _would have been going up to sit with you in that damned attic all day and night!"

I stared at him, lost for words. He put his hands to his face, shoulders tight and heavy with tension and stress.

"I know you don't want to hear it, I know you're just going to shut off the minute I start talking about it but you're killing us too. I'm not saying it to guilt you out or whatever, but you're hurting us by hurting yourself. Maybe not Alice and Jasper so much because they're not here with us, in the thick of it. Jasper is hours away and Alice is doing her own thing elsewhere." He paused again, struggling to find the words. His mind was oddly quiet, stilted. "You're hurting the people who love you the most. Do you know what you mean to me?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You're not just my friend, not just my brother. You've been there for me at times when I thought I could never face another day. You've seen me at my worst, pulled me back from losing my self." He grimaced, head inclining slightly to the left. "To see you do this to yourself...it hurts me more than I can say. And yeah, I _know_ you don't want to hear about that but guess what? This? This kinda requires you to listen and hear what I'm saying! I don't care how much you love Bella or how much it hurts! _This_ is beneath you! Nothing in the world gives you the right to do this, not to yourself and not to us."

I closed my eyes, a nasty cold spike of guilt wedging it's way into my spine.

"I just wanted silence, just for a little while."

"At what cost?" he snapped, pushing away from the wall. "Look around you, Edward! You are surrounded by people who love you and you – you who sees and hears everything – can only see who _isn't_ surrounding you. So you left Bella, doing the right thing by the way! So she's not around anymore, that doesn't mean you just get to throw everything away! You've been through worse and you'll go through worse again but that _never_ gives you the right to do..._this!_"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry for all the wrong reasons," he went on, as if unable to stop now that he had started. "Do you know why we have a bed in here? Did it escape your attention? Huh?"

"No," I mumbled, instantly seeing where this was going and hating myself just a little more.

"I _made_ Rosalie buy one a few weeks ago. You know why? So I could hold her while she cried. Every time she'd come down from that goddamned attic, she'd be just about ready to fall apart. And I..." he choked a little, breaking off and catching his breath. "I had nowhere to lay with her while she cried. I made her buy it so I could _hold her together_ while she fell apart with the effort of _holding you together!_ Oh she'll lie and make some smart ass remark about sex or something, but that's what it's for. Because she can't stand upright after seeing you like _this_!"

I desperately wanted to tell him to stop, but I didn't. She'd always seemed so calm and composed, sitting there with me in the darkness. My anchor to steady places. And I'd never known how much it was hurting her, not really. She was too good at controlling her mind and my gift was not Jasper's gift – I couldn't feel her.

"You're destroying more than yourself."

And I could see that he was right. Even being clinical and logical about the entire thing, it made sense that Rosalie would be dragged down with me. How could two such as us, two being so hopelessly tangled and connected, ever hope to be in different places? If I was drowning, she was drowning too.

"I didn't think of that," I whispered, eyes fixed upon the silk threads of the duvet.

"Yeah, well that was pretty damned obvious!"

"Hey! What is going on here?"

We both looked up at the same moment to see Rosalie standing in the entrance to the room. She was glancing back and forth from Emmett and myself, suspiciously. When her gaze finally landed on Emmett, her eyes narrowed.

"Are you seriously doing this _now_?" she demanded.

"We were talking, Rose," he sighed. "It's not a crime."

"What were you talking about?"

"Brother stuff," he replied, vaguely.

And then something jarring happened, not for the first time that day.

Something was _moving around_ inside my mind.

"Gah!" I yelped, and jumped as though electrocuted.

Emmett started forward, concern written all over him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The moving, curling thing did not cease. It was very gently searching for something. The golden thread, I realised, was trying to seek out knowledge of what had passed between Emmett and I.

Rosalie. Was. Reading. _My_. Mind.

I gaped openly at her, slack jawed and wide eyed. She continued to stare intently at me as the luminous thread rifled through my memories until it found what it had been searching for. Then her interest dissipated and she relaxed.

'_Stop gawking,' _she intoned softly.

"I'm...it's a...nothing. I'm fine," I lied, somewhat breathlessly. "My senses are returning, that's all."

'_That's good. Now tell him you want to go hunting tomorrow.'_

Experimentally, somewhat terrified about what it would mean if it worked...I allowed my mind to form speech of it's own.

'_Are you reading my mind?'_

Not the smartest question, admittedly, but an important one.

"He should definitely hunt tomorrow, don't you think, darling?" she asked Emmett and at the same time I heard her inside my mind.

'_Do I really have to dignify that with an answer?'_

"I guess," Emmett said, eyeing me uncertainly. "If he can walk, that is."

"You can always carry him," she suggested with a small smile.

"It begins," I muttered grimly.

"And shall never end from this moment on," Emmett promised, looking a little more like his old self. Some of the anger had left, replaced with sympathy and relief that I would live to be teased.

"Carlisle is making calls to every coven he can think of, asking about potential brain damage," Rosalie told Emmett. "Can you please go and convince him that the idiot is actually alright? He'll believe you."

"Like he won't believe you?" Emmett questioned, doubtfully.

"He doesn't believe I have Edward's best interests at heart," she explained with a casual shrug, highly indicative of some argument that had taken place between the two of them.

"That," Emmett stated loud and furious. "Is the stupidest thing I've heard all day, including anything _that_ moron has come out with!"

"Thanks," I muttered, resigned to my fate.

Rosalie shrugged, exquisite and elegant, despite the horror she had endured. "He's probably right, to some extent. The last thing we need is other covens poking around in our business, looking a little closer at recent events."

"No goddamned excuse to say _that!_"

"Regardless, will you please go and talk to him? He's a little more in shock than he seems. Please?"

Her husband melted at the word. "Of course, baby. Whatever you want."

She smiled, genuinely and pulled him in to a brief, yet somehow lingering kiss as he went to leave. "I love you," she whispered.

His nose brushed hers and his eyes fell closed for just a moment. "Nowhere near as much as I love you," he breathed.

I had to swallow down a cry, because I could _feel_ her love for him. It was new, terrifying and alien. An emotion that was not wholly my own, imprinting itself into my nervous system. Love, adoration, gratitude, safety...they were not my feelings, most certainly not.

And yet from Emmett, nothing but the shape and voice of his thoughts. He left, giving me a small smile and I had to exert serious control over myself not to scream the moment he left, demanding to know _what was happening_.

"I don't know what's happening," she answered softly, a few moments later. She backed up until her back hit a wall and I watched as she slid down it, until she was sitting on the floor. "I can't explain how or why."

"But you...you..." I spluttered.

She shook her head; her loose, limp curls moved a little. "I haven't done this, Edward. I don't even know what it _is_."

"I think it's pretty clear," I gasped, feeling the thread settle down once more inside my mind. "You're in my head. I can feel you, _see you_." I swallowed, trying to find the courage to voice the worst of it. "And that's not all, is it? You...you can read _my_ mind, can't you?"

A very small part of me had been able to rationalise this entire scenario up until then. Brain damage, temporary insanity etc. There was no limit to potential explanations that would shed light upon why I was imagining such things.

That small, desperately hopeful part exploded when she nodded, capturing my eyes with her own.

"How?" I gasped, feeling suddenly naked and open.

"Like I said," she went on, tiredly. "I don't know. All I know is, you came back from wherever you went and then you were," she lost her voice for a moment and struggled to regain it. The pain and distress rolling off her in waves made me feel physically dizzy. "You were dying again. I could feel it, something was happening to you and if I hadn't done something, you would have never come back. I was trying to pull you back, screaming at you in my mind but you couldn't hear over the pain." She paused, frowning and lost in recollection. "And then...I don't know, exactly. I fell inside you. I saw inside, felt it tearing you apart and I knew I could help. So I did."

Silence followed her words, crashing around us both as the gravity of everything started to hit us.

"So that's it? You _fell inside me_?" I echoed, raw with incredulity.

"What do you want me to say? I wished upon a star and it came true? I don't know how it happened, I really don't."

She wasn't lying, that was the worst thing. Her mind was open and honest and very, very tangible in ways it had not been before. The glass walls between my mind and the minds of others were non existent between us now. There was no discernable boundary between our minds.

She was inside me and I was inside her and we were one and the same.

Oh God, it was like some monstrous prophecy coming to fruition. How many times had we felt it, thought it, swore it over and over in prayer against each other's lips?

One soul in two bodies, only now there was a breach. Less separation, less distinction.

"I can feel you," I said, voice hoarse and unfamiliar even to my ears. "I've never felt you, not like this. Is it the same for you? Can you...feel me?"

Something flared through her, something bitter and distressed. "Yes," she whispered. "I can feel you."

I studied her intently for a moment before posing another question. "And you're...fine with that?"

"The alternative, I suppose, is to go insane? Drown myself in a bathtub?"

It was both terrifyingly reassuring and foreign to feel that spike of anger.

"I didn't drown."

"No," she said, her eyes boring into me, through me. "I saved you. I pulled you out, smashed your chest to pulp, made you sick up buckets of water. I reached inside and stopped you from losing your mind and part of me stayed there. You can feel me? Well you can't feel yourself, and if you could – you'd run a mile. I think under the circumstances, I'm handling this pretty well considering I've been given front row tickets and a backstage pass to the Underground Circus of Hell!"

I closed my eyes and tried to steady myself.

"Can you...?" I paused, unable to believe I was going to ask it. "Can you make it stop hurting?"

A long, calculative pause.

"I can," she said, slowly.

"Will you?"

"I'll help you," she said carefully. "But I won't take it away completely."

It went unsaid that she _could_ take it away completely. Before, she'd held the ability to do exactly the same, only via completely different methods. But she wouldn't do that, not unless I was quite literally dying. Again.

I was drained, weak and tired; my abilities and strengths would return soon enough, but for the time being I was content to go along with that. She would continue to moderate her acquiescence and I would be patient, accepting what she would give me and not asking for more.

We both knew it wouldn't last.

We both knew it never did.

We both knew the rules had changed.

And we both knew, with absolute certainty, that the direct result of tension and pressure, was yet another breaking point.

* * *

_A/N – OK, you can hurl rocks at me now. I know, I have defiled much in this chapter. Mainly science. But still, it's been a long time coming and I'm thrilled to finally break into this arc. So, yes I'm sorry if I've once again had my wicked way with canon, only to dismiss it and never call it again. But I'm a Scorpio. Evil goes with the territory. _

_This was a lot shorter than other chapters, mainly because I felt that if I didn't get it up soon, I was going to lose my mind. Hands down the hardest chapter EVER to write and it's been rewritten a lot, which probably shows but seriously – I couldn't take anymore and you all have been so patient, so here it is, posted and very short. _

_The next chapter will be dealing with more angst, but also telepathic adjustments, Jasper getting involved in the madness, camping trips and the first indication of just how seriously evil I am, because you think Edward and Rose have been suffering? Nothing to what I'm about to make them do soon. I even feel kinda bad about it, but ah well. _

_I love you all, beautiful, amazing people. _

_Reviews are lifeblood and it's 5:37am here. _

x x x x

Bex

x x x x


	38. Chapter 38: Come Crashing Down

**-Chapter Thirty Eight: Come Crashing Down-**

'_Born unto this pride,  
Silence is something you can't hide,  
You can't deny us.  
Nothing has been said,  
Yet so many words have filled my head,  
Now they completely surround me.  
__Tie the lines of honest conductivity,  
Caught between the centre of our gravity,  
I don't have that much time to burn anymore.  
__You can go heavy on me,  
__And I will not weigh you down, down, down.  
__You can be steady and clean, I can take it,  
__Heavy on me...I will not weigh you down.'_

_-Holly Brook_

-**Rosalie**-

**-Saturday 18****th**** March 2006-**

"Don't come any closer," I warned, low and raw. My hands continued to clutch at pieces of the shattered cell phone, most of which had fallen down into the lake beneath me. The cliff edge was crumbling and decaying; any sudden movement would have both myself and Edward tumbling down into the black waters beneath.

"Please," he begged, holding his hands up, black and dirty from previous events. "This is stupid."

I laughed, only just managing to stop it before it evolved into a sob. "Isn't it, though? This is what started it all, this whole Goddamned mess! Water!" I tossed the remaining pieces of the previously whole object behind me with flair; they flew into the harsh winds, eventually landing softly on the water's surface.

His eyes bore into mine, and I felt him inside pleading with me to see sense; _couldn't I see how hard this was for him too?_ _He was suffering too. We were in it together, I wasn't alone._ Endless reassurances, becoming increasingly desperate as I continued to maintain the wall between us.

"Water," I repeated, snarling the word. The wind whipped around my face, tossing and pulling at my loose hair and clothes, trying to snatch them from me. "It began and ends with water."

'_You know it won't work,_' he tried to shout into my mind, I only heard the words as though through thick cement walls; muffled and obscure, but there nonetheless. _'You know it.'_

I slammed my eyes shut, clamping my hands on either side of my face, trying to physically lock him out. "Shut up! Just..._shut up!_ I will end this, one way or another! You think I care if I die?"

There was a long, shattering pause in which he contemplated that. "You won't die," he answered finally, far too speculative to be anything remotely true.

"No," I said, voice trembling uncontrollably. "No, you're right. I won't die. But this...it needs to die. You don't understand why I'm doing this and it's only a matter of time but...I don't deserve this. _You_ don't deserve this and I won't be the one...I _cannot_ be the one to..."

He was pushing all his mental weight against the barrier now, furiously trying to smash it into oblivion once and for all.

"You're not making sense," he informed me. "Just let me see...let me see what you're saying."

I took a shuddering breath, steeling myself as much as possible. Upon the cruel wind I caught a dozen scents, most prominently his clothes and skin. He had been wearing the same clothes for days now; he still smelled of other countries.

"No," I refused, desperately trying to think of something that would lead him away from the truth. "This has to stop. She was right, that woman...she was right, damn it! We're blending into one another and eventually there will be nothing left of us...nothing individual."

He made an irritated noise in the back of his throat; it was taking all of my energy to keep the flimsy barrier up between us and the last thing I needed was anger fuelling the pressure behind his determination to break through it. Every ounce of my immortal strength went into keeping him out; trying to create and maintain some kind of line between us. There _had_ to be a line.

"Some crazy woman makes an off the wall prediction and you're running for the hills? We're too old for this, Rosalie!" I could feel the rotten earth starting to lose patience with my dead weight; hear the roots and mud groaning in protest and so did Edward. He hid his concern well. "You're going to ruin your clothes," he warned, only semi serious. "Come on, please."

He extended his hand to me and once again the immense pressure to let him flood through my torn, needful system threatened to overwhelm me. I wanted it _badly_, wanted him inside me like a desert dreams of rain. But if I did...if I gave in then, we were lost. I would smash into him and never pull away again, never regain distinction. And far, far worse...he would _know..._

"I...I have to stop it," I choked out, wishing he would just _for once_ understand and trust me enough to believe that what I was doing was for the best. "We'll lose everything."

"I care," he said, taking a small step closer and I panicked because proximity was going to be my undoing; the barrier was weakening. "I don't want to lose my family, don't want to break my brother's heart. But I can't do it anymore. I can't be brave and strong and keep _lying_. As if I can bear a moment of the day when you're not touching me, as if I can know sanity or peace without you, Rosalie. It's time to stop pretending now. Forever is too long a time to pretend."

I shook my head, trying not to let his words in. "Alice," I muttered. "She'll see!"

"I know," he said forcefully, and grabbed my wrist, making me open my eyes to see him unbearably close. "_I know._"

"Please," I sobbed, because he was touching me. His skin felt hot against mine, fingers wrapped tightly around my wrists and I couldn't breath with the fear that somehow he was going to see right down into me and _know_. "Please, Edward."

He pulled me closer into him, locking eyes with me. "I want her to see it. I want Alice to know, because it means we can't go back," he growled.

I watched, thunderstruck, as he took a deep breath and said aloud, "We're leaving, Rose. We are leaving together and we're never going to come back."

...*...

**-Five Months Ago-**

The concept of simplicity had always been beyond my grasp, if not for lack of wanting. It was an ideal to me, something I had once striven for but now knew with devastating certainty, that it was something I would never know. I would never live a simple life, never know simple things.

The concept of complexity had always been a deciding factor in every aspect of my existence. No part of my life was without it, no hours or days passed without my mind extending it's fullest efforts to wrap around the complications that filled my world. Everything was multifaceted, everything always would be.

I was no stranger to intricacy and difficulty, absolutely not. The necessity to exert all of my energies into maintaining the convoluted life I led was a part of who I was; fully ingrained into me.

But this...this was something else.

Two and a half miles away from the house in Ithaca, I could still feel him. I could make out the shape of his thoughts. If I focused harder I could hear those thoughts. Distance did not seem to have much effect; I could not process my reaction to that new fact, be it relief or otherwise.

The surrounding trees were thick and heavy, leaning around me as if to shield me from the world and all it's trappings, but even they failed to interfere with the connection. I closed my eyes and breathed deeper, tasting fresh rain and wet dirt. A familiar taste indeed. I allowed the memory to rise a little, lodging itself in the back of my throat. Hammering rain, the wet, unstable earth beneath me and the counterpart of my soul above me. Anger and delusion shattering spectacularly into the ever expanding darkness.

I had been half expecting, half dreading the reaction.

Even though the memory was fairly well contained - a wild animal behind reinforced glass - he felt it's potency as much as me. The ripple of desire and frustration that rolled through my body was not wholly my own. My lips parted, jaw slackening and fingertips extending of their own volition. I _felt_ him stop what he had been doing previously as he allowed himself to tumble into the memory along with me.

And then it was not a memory anymore.

_There was mud all over me; arms, hands, back, neck, hair, face, elbows. Wet, thick and grainy; dirty and natural. The raindrops were large, hitting my face and his back hard enough to make an audible impact. The world around us was sodden and transitional; on the verge of drowning itself. Only minutes before, we had done and said terrible things, but it failed to matter. He was kissing me so deeply that I would have suffocated, had I needed oxygen to survive. Our bodies were fused as one and the idea of separating was blasphemy. The rolling rip tide of destructive pleasure was killing us both, tearing through everything within and obliterating any residual doubt or guilt. Tear and kisses and hands and raindrops and ohhh we had gone too far this time, there would be no pulling apart now, not if the pressure kept building and coiling between us, waiting to explode and take us with it. I forgot his name and he forgot mine because we weren't separate anymore. There was only us, and the power we were generating was surely going to destroy the planet when it finally detonated..._

Oh God, stop.

Somehow I managed to wrench myself back from it before I lost myself permanently. When I forced my eyes open, I was on my knees in the woods, alone and horribly out of breath.

I leant forward, bracing myself on my hands.

Edward's voice shivered up my spine, resonating in my mind.

'_Deny it all you want,'_ he told me, the temperature of his words hotter than they had ever been in my mind so far. _'But you know as well as I do, Rosalie, you're postponing the inevitable._'

Two and a half miles away, alone in the woods, I realised that I would never be alone ever again. Alone was a forgotten concept now. Even if I learned to somehow shut it off, keep him out, he would always be there and I would always be there inside of him.

It was the reason I couldn't slow my breathing down. It was the reason I couldn't pull myself to stand upright. For all my exterior bravado, there was no way to deny that I was terrified of the massive implications staring us in the face.

We would adjust, as we always did. Edward and I were no strangers to complexity; we had _invented_ the concept. This was just another facet to implement into our already complicated lives. We would adjust...or we would break.

* * *

**-Saturday 18****th**** March 2006-**

"No," I gasped, feeling as though his words had physically struck me. "_No!_"

The grip on my wrists increased until I thought the bones were going to snap and when I tried to pull away, he refused. "Why?" he demanded after a few icy, dark moments. The sun was setting behind me, letting the darkness take reign over these lands. "Why not?"

"Because...just because!" I panted, the effort of sustaining the wall was now starting to drain me of my physical strength. I didn't even bother trying to rip away from his vice-like grip. "You're don't mean it, you never do and this is just stupid! You have to leave, have to stop _following me_!"

He laughed bitterly, face moving closer to mine and I thought I might actually pass out from the strain of trying to hold myself and so much more together. He stopped shy of brushing our noses together and narrowed his eyes.

"Follow you? I've tried to give you what you asked for, Rosalie. I left, didn't I? Romania, Texas, Brazil; where else would you like me to go? Outer space? It doesn't mater where you send me; I can still _feel you_. Nothing will change that, don't you see? Not water, not death, _not time or love or obligation_ will ever change anything! I am as in love with you as I was when it first hit me and I'm _sick to death_ of pretending I'm not!"

I blinked hard, sending tears rolling down my cheeks. "Please," I croaked. "Just _leave."_

A tremor went through him as he leaned in to whisper, "I would if I could."

...*...

**-Five Months Ago-**

Early on in the twenty first century, I had come to form the immutable opinion that I now and forever would loathe computers. No matter how sleek and efficient they might have been, I hated them. I supposed I could have made a bid to avoid falling into a stereotyped category, but really...I despised the infernal machines.

Internet, email, _YouTube_, digital music, pornography, bank fraud, pop-ups...it made me sick, made me shudder for the direction the world was heading in.

My fingers were uneasy and unsure of they keys beneath them at first. I had never learned how to type with any fluency, there had hardly been any call for it until IT skills had become mandatory in schools. Still, I managed to type the words I needed to in _Google_.

'_Telepathic connections'_

154'000 results.

'_Telepathic connections between lovers'_

47'000 results.

'_Telepathy between bondmates'_

2'280 results. Most of which, I was highly amused to note, were affiliated in some way to Star Trek – more specifically, to Kirk and Spock.

More idle surfing yielded similarly irrelevant results and I chastised myself for thinking that such a ridiculous contraption could be of any assistance to me whatsoever.

No, I had to face the truth soon enough. There wasn't any reasonable explanation for what had happened, at least certainly not in the form of a website.

Part of me understood it very well. I had literally shoved myself into his mind to save him, though Carlisle remained convinced that he couldn't possibly have died from the experience. So desperate to save him, I had unthinkingly broken down yet another barrier between us, so I could reach where he needed me most.

Another part of me rejected that romanticised version with abhorrence and scorn. A moderately scientific explanation suggested that his telepathy had gone wild owing to water in his brain, and somehow as I had been the one touching him throughout the experience, I had been affected. Drawn in by his ability, locked inside once it had healed.

As a whole, I knew the truth to be somewhere in between both those possibilities and seeing as how _Google_ was being most unhelpful, I supposed I would have to leave it at that for a while.

Edward was not quite so accepting.

His answer to dealing with the newfound twist in our ever changing lives, was to nosedive into research of the book variety. He had finally picked out a room for himself and was avoiding the attic; in fact, he hadn't been up there once since the Bathtub Incident. He remained relatively antisocial, but that was to be expected.

He spent most of his time poring over books and taking notes. I knew he was mentally composing a theory about what had developed between us, and I certainly wasn't going to interfere with it if that's what he needed to do to feel in control.

Control was something we seemed to be lacking as of late.

I gave up completely after another minute with a barely concealed sigh of frustration. Pausing for a moment, I checked to see if the frustration was entirely mine or not. My eyes went unfocused and I let that part of my mind extend and search.

The sensation was still as strange as the first time.

Edward's mind was a labyrinth. An endless complexity containing thousands of layers, each one more convoluted and intricate than the last.

For instance, aside from the sheer mass of knowledge and information he had stored inside it, there was an almost equally vast plethora of unanswered questions. For each piece of intelligence he possessed, there existed an opposing question about it. He was never satisfied, his thirst for knowledge never fully quenched. If he came to learn something, it only succeeded in alerting him to the fact that there was so much more he did _not_ know. It drove him to obsess and fixate, made him neurotic and unpredictable.

Beneath this, a dark, cavernous pit of confusion, writhing memories and thoughts bathed in lightless uncertainty. This part of him was to be avoided when possible, as it was the part of him that owned a tendency to brood and mope for weeks at a time. His propensity to lose himself in a bad memory, a dark thought pertaining to darker deed...it stemmed from that area. An ocean of movement and sound, never controlled – only contained and barely at that.

Yet, there was another place. Wonderfully indescribable, somehow voiding all depiction. Light, stillness and song contained within him; that was the place I had come to prefer. Everything good, beautiful, kind, peaceful, loving, generous and lovely came from that spring of hope and goodness. This was the part of him that hummed songs in his mind when he was distracted. This was the part that laughed and smiled, told kind lies and gave unnecessary hugs and reassurances even when he expressly didn't want to be touched or crowded. This was where he dared to hope that he deserved happiness, that he wasn't damned and lost and fated for hell. Had he been human, this would have produced his dreams.

Unfortunately, this was not where the categories ended. There were thousands of other areas to be explored, places where emotions beyond definition stored themselves, ready and waiting for any situation that would require them. I had realised very early on, that if I wasn't careful, I would easily get lost inside him and never find my way back.

I initiated a very shallow probe – merely to sense his general feelings. As I had suspected, his frustration was bleeding into me. Almost immediately, the shape of his thought shifted and changed; he sensed me searching. There was a stirring, a slow building glow and then he spoke.

'_Find anything on Google?'_

The experience was organic, totally unlike anything I had felt previous to this new twist of events. Hearing his voice inside me was so different to hearing him speak using his voice, that when he actually did speak, the difference was jarring. This was not his a set of sounds his throat created using contractions and vibrations. This was _his voice_. It was fluid, baritone, flawless; echoing and perfect.

'_Nothing relevant,'_ I thought, bitterly. _'It was a long shot, anyway. You?'_

'_There's a compendium here talking about psychokinetic abilities, telepathy and so on, but nothing...relevant, as you said.'_

He was despondent, evident dissatisfaction pouring through the link. I narrowed my focus and executed the mental equivalent of a reassuring touch or a stroke. My vision of the real world faded for the duration and when it returned, blurred and swimming, I felt disorientated. This was something I had been experimenting with for the last week. The bond was almost tangible in some ways. If we focused it enough, we could create something akin to physical contact. It registered in the brain as the sensation of touch. It was dangerous, however. Not only did it drain us of energy, but we returned from the effort of concentrating so hard in a dizzy, lightheaded state. Never to be attempted in front of others.

I felt him swallow down the groan that had rumbled up his throat when my touch registered. We both worked hard to ignore it.

'_You think maybe it's a precedent?'_

He executed an almost perfect mental shrug. _'Without asking anyone, we won't know, will we?'_

It went without saying that we could never tell anyone, aside from Jasper who had known the moment he'd arrived back at the house. Initially, we thought perhaps the necessity might arise beyond our control; Alice might (finally) have seen something that would indicate the bond between us altered the future somehow. Only she had seen nothing, as far as we knew. Alice was too forthright to keep it to herself if indeed she had seen anything.

Jasper had waited a few hours to get Edward and I alone to discuss the matter. We had been ruthlessly grilled and he had made his displeasure very well known. He demanded to know how, why, when, _how_? I tried to explain the best I could, but it was difficult to depict the experience without waxing poetic. He believed everything I told him, except that it had been accidental. He still refused accept that we had not forged this bond on purpose.

'_Why would we do it on purpose?_' Edward murmured, amused. He had, of course, been musing over those memories right along with me.

It took a few seconds for me to adjust. _'I honestly can't fathom_,' I replied. It was the truth; though the bond between us was new and somehow familiar all in one, there was one constant that had established itself immediately. We could not lie through it. Nothing but the truth would pass between us. Which made the _other_ issue even more pressing.

The worst – the absolute _worst_ – thing about this entire occurrence was that we were now closer than we had ever been, without touching. Though I knew I was being irredeemably shallow to even acknowledge such impulses at a time like this, the truth was not easy to shove aside.

There was nowhere to hide now. No safe place to run when the temptation to touch him, kiss him, hold him, _have_ him threatened to run riot with my shoddily constructed control. It was practically impossible now to even stop thinking about him; he was _right there inside me and I was inside him_. It was starting to feel like some terrifying axiom, branding itself into my skin, bones and soul.

_You are inside me and I am inside you and we are one and the same. _

I wanted him more than I could control. I had never wanted, _needed_ him to this extent. The difference being that now I was older, in possession of an impressive set of defences and some serious self discipline. Mostly. I could recall being young; there had been nothing to stop me leaving our family to go to him in the dead of night, recklessly indulging each and every impulse as it was born.

This was different. I had not needed him then like I needed him now, but back then I had not generated the strength of will that I owned now. We had not been bound like we were now; tied together irreversibly. Tangled and interwoven, growing into the messy knots that held us together.

It was too late in the game to decide to simply back away gracefully. Back away even a little. Back away at all.

And worse, I knew it.

There was a thickening rope of claustrophobia around my neck, restricting any and all space around me. I struggled not to panic, not to let the fear overcome my ability to cope. The air of permanency was weighing heavily in my lungs, threatening in low tones that I would never be alone again, never.

'_Breathe,_' he told me. _'Just take slow, deep breaths._'

I shook my head, hands rising to cover my mouth. _'I can't._'

'_Yes,_' he promised. _'You can._'

I was unusually hot, in a deeply unpleasant way. The oxygen around me seemed damp and drenched with some sort of heat. My hands were sticky, skin prickling in reaction to this unnatural warmth. It was like being trapped under a quilt with another body. No air, no space, no escape.

When he spoke again, it was louder; commanding and edged with impatient concern. _'Rose, you have to calm down.'_

Suddenly, I felt a bout of irrational anger bubbling up inside me.

'_Why do you care?'_ I snapped, and my chest hitched and convulsed a little. I vaguely recalled a sensation like this overpowering me when I had been human; panic attacks. Though no-one ever knew of it, I had been quite prone to them during my teen years. I dropped my head a little further and let my spine curve downwards, my whole body suddenly eager to obey gravity in it's entirety. _Let me drop, let me fall down and be weightless, _it sang.

'_Rosalie!_' he almost shouted, loud enough that I winced. It echoed and bounced off the walls of my mind; walls that seemed smaller, more condensed than they had ever been. _'You have to get a grip!_'

"Why?" I gasped, not wanting to speak to him in that secret way. Not when it made me too hot, too uncomfortably warm and sickly.

My vision swam, jolted by something. The room faded entirely, replaced by another. I sucked in a huge breath, panic flooding my senses. Too bright, too blurry...but it was Edward's room. The vision was moving, changing.

I was seeing through Edward's eyes.

He shook his head, the images of the room blurring beyond recognition. I dipped a little into his feelings and realised that he was feeling the same sensations as I was. Only they had not originated from him; they had come from me.

I was doing this to him, affecting him.

It was enough to force myself to withdraw, to sit up straight and take slow, calming breaths of cool air until I was brave enough to open my eyes again. After a few minutes of silence, I ran a hand through my hair and sighed.

"How do you control it?" I asked, barely more than a whisper. I couldn't bring myself to use the voice inside after that unpleasantness.

'_It takes time,'_ he offered, rather lamely. _'It gets better, I promise.'_

"We can control this, right?" I waited with a bated breath for an answer which could only be the truth – no reassuring lies.

'_I don't know,'_ he answered finally. _'But you know what I do know? You're wasting your time denying how much you want me. I can see it, feel it, hear it...you need me as much as I need you and I'm sorry, but you're right – there's nowhere to hide now.'_

That was enough. I stood up from where I had been sitting and left the room with an abruptness I hoped would serve to shake him out of me for the time being, deep down knowing that it wouldn't. I swept through the beautifully decorated hallways, past the rooms of people I loved and down the spiral staircase. I felt his attention wander away from me, back to whatever he was reading, and managed to convince myself that somehow, I could cope.

I barely noticed that I had swiped my car keys from the hook by the door – they felt cold and heavy in my hand. I loudly called my husband's name and waited for him to arrive.

"Emmett!" I yelled again, impatience curling in my stomach.

"Coming!" he shouted back, somewhere in the back part of the house. "Hang on, coming!"

I heard his footfalls, heard him skid once on the beautiful marble staircase and then he came into view. All messy wet hair, distracted confusion and that smile. I couldn't help it, I smiled a little just to see him.

"Hey baby," he said, winking. "What's all the rush? I was in the shower and mmppphh-!"

Before he could finish the sentence I had jumped right up into his arms and pressed my lips against his urgently, running my free hand through his wet hair. He groaned into my mouth; he loved it when I played with his hair. His big, strong arms lifted me where I stood as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He lifted me as though I weighed nothing, held me there against him. I shifted angle, our noses brushing so I could deepen the kiss, catching his bottom lip between my teeth just before I drew back.

He was out of breath, voice low and gravelly when he spoke. "Well, hey there."

I traced my fingers down from his scalp, over his ears and curled them around the back of his neck, tracing idle shapes and circles. His breath stuttered and caught, his eyes locking into mine and threatening to never let go.

"Hey," I breathed, moving my lips tantalisingly close over his, just short of brushing.

"Where've you been?" he asked, hand running up and down my back. "I missed you."

"Missed you more." I brought his chin up a little so I could duck under his neck and bite at the soft skin there, eliciting a very interesting sound from his throat.

"God, Rose," he gasped. "Been a while, huh baby?"

Which was true, of course. It had indeed been a while since we had been like this; there had been other, more pressing issues. I had neglected him during those weeks, needed him to be there for me in a way that didn't involve...this.

"Too long," I breathed, dragging my lips over that special spot on his neck while I strategically tightened my legs around his waist, causing his knees to buckle. We fell together, right there in the middle of the vestibule where anyone could walk past. He landed on his knees, I remained draped around him. "Way too long."

When I gently bit his earlobe, he began to seriously lose control. He pulled my face to his, crushing our lips together in heated, feral urgency. My hands were under his shirt now, sweeping over the planes of smooth muscles and skin; dragging in places, clawing in others. I knew well how to drive him wild.

"Need...go...somewhere...else," he managed, between kisses.

I ignored him, not caring if someone walked by just then. In fact, I wanted it. Let them see how normal we were; what a perfect, uncontrollably in love couple we were...let them all see it. I wanted the world to know it and accept it and just leave us alone.

"Don't care," I replied, ripping open his shift with one hand, sending buttons flying everywhere over the hard, marble floor. They skittered and rolled away as he let his head fall back so I could mark his skin, bite and suck in such a way that would leave a bruise for hours, if not days. He groaned aloud; it reverberated off of the vast walls, circling us.

'_Unfair.'_

I violently ignored that, to the degree of trying to slam the door through which it had come, shut. There was no-one else; me and Emmett, that was all.

My lips travelled down his neck, along his chest. Kissing and marking him in a messy, imperfect journey ever downwards. I shifted position, so I could better reach his navel when he pulled me back up. His lips were wet and swollen, pupils blown wide with lust but he was obviously trying to clear his mind.

"Babe," he panted. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Sshhh," I soothed, kissing him again, softer this time. "I love you, Emmett. I love you more than I'll ever be able to say."

"I love you, but..."

"No, no more excuses, no more obligations and being brave," I said, louder than I had intended. "We're good people, we deserve this, don't we?"

He looked at me strangely, but nodded slowly and replied, "Of course we do, Rose."

I smiled and kissed him again, reaching for his belt buckle. "Exactly."

When he felt what I was in the middle of doing, his hand shot to my wrist and he pulled back, eyes serious with concern.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of the foyer," he pointed out. "In the house we share with our family."

"So? They're used to it," I shrugged again, trying to regain my grasp on his belt. He held me back tightly and I let a slow, sultry smile spread across my face. "Ahh, wanna play a different game, baby? You wanna tie me up, tie me down?"

He frowned a little. "Not here."

Of course, he'd want to go to our room. Privacy. But the thought of being locked away inside another room, surrounded by...people, made my stomach clench. I wanted distance.

"No," I whispered, letting my features soften. "Not here. I want to go be outside somewhere. Like we used to, remember?"

Some of the concern vanished, replaced by battling desire. "Yeah."

Slowly, I twisted my wrist out of his iron grip and took his hands into mine, tangling them together. "Let's take the car, drive somewhere and get lost for a while. Would you like that, baby?"

What seemed to be an involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his beautiful mouth and he nodded almost shyly. "Yes."

I reached for the car keys, somewhere to my left where I had dropped them and pressed them into his hand, kissing him soundly. He would drive us, take my car and take us away somewhere and I would pretend..._pretend_...that it was just the two of us.

* * *

**-Saturday 18****th**** March 2006-**

"If you love me," I breathed. "You'll stop."

Without missing a beat, he replied, "I don't just _love_ you."

I angled my face away, only just avoiding the impending kiss. "Let me go."

To my intense surprise and relief, he complied; hands loosening and finally leaving my skin entirely. "Sorry," he said, quite sincerely. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

I drew in a few shaky breaths, trying to replenish the tremulous barrier. When he took a few small steps backwards, eyes averted, I groaned. "Oh please don't look like that, Edward. For Christ's sake, it _nothing_ remotely to do with _that_."

His eyes flickered to mine and away again quickly. "It's not?"

"No, it's not. You just...you just need to stay away from me, stop trying to get inside my mind. OK?" I managed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, quieter than before. "I've just missed you so much. Being away from you is unbearable now; even this...not touching you...it's taking everything I have. I can't cope anymore, Rose. I'll do anything you want, _anything_. You want me to tell Emmett? Is that it? I'll do it. I'll tell everyone, tell them whatever you want me to and then we'll go wherever you want, do whatever you want," he swore, solemnly.

My back only convulsed once and I caught the sob before it escaped, but he knew I was crying anyway. He put his hands to his face, frantic and frustrated.

"What is this, Rose? _Please just tell me!_ Is it that stupid psychic?"

I shook my head, blinking back tears, wishing it was that simple.

...*...

**-Four Months, Two Weeks Ago-**

It had been Esme's idea, at least early on. The house was exceptionally quiet lately and I knew, as we all did, that it was causing her grief to know that something wasn't quite right between us. Though she had her own projects – in particular, singlehandedly restoring a stunning monument a few miles away – we were still the light and soul of her life; her beautiful children. Seeing us like this was intolerable and it had been only a matter of time before she would inveigle us in some sort of family related outing.

The State Theatre was the obvious choice. She had, quite secretly, procured tickets for _Sleeping Beauty_, performed by the Ithaca Ballet. Her everlasting optimism ensured that she'd purchased seven tickets in the hope that Alice might return from her truth seeking journey. It had been a false hope, though. Alice had regretfully declined, claiming she was making impressive headway whilst trying to unearth her shadowy origins. Jasper had spoke very briefly to her on the phone and had hung up without telling her he loved her. He hadn't mentioned it since and no-one was going to try and make him talk; myself especially, when we weren't on the best of terms. He agreed to come to the performance, though which had to be something.

I realised how much I missed Alice, when I was searching for something to wear. She would have insisted we go shopping, or given me something of hers. I could easily have raked through her impressive collection of exquisite dresses – she certainly wouldn't have minded – but I couldn't bring myself to do it. So instead, I dressed in something relatively simple and pulled my hair up in a swirl.

Emmett's reaction to my somewhat unadorned look was a slow, stunning smile. He whispered warmly to me that I hadn't looked this beautiful in a long time and I didn't know how to feel about that.

In the back of my mind, Edward agreed.

We took two cars to the theatre; Esme and Carlisle in one and the rest of us in another. Edward and Jasper in the back while I drove and Emmett rode shotgun, shooting me sultry glances and secret smiles the entire journey there. Edward tried to stay distracted; tried not to be jealous, tried not to think of how the city at night reminded him of Forks and of Bella.

I drove very carefully, managing not to lose concentration.

Once we'd parked, it was only a small walk to the theatre. Emmett was at my side almost immediately, taking my hand and clasping it in his own.

"We can make out in this place, right?" he whispered, only half serious. I grinned and tried not to laugh out loud. "I mean, this is like a movie...but with men in tights?"

"I think you'd look rather strapping in tights, Em," Jasper piped up behind us as we began to walk. "Bet you could jump higher too."

"Damn straight," he replied easily. "So as I was saying, we can make out in the rows, can't we? Did Esme get us like a private box or something? With curtains?"

"Don't you two ever get bored of each other?" Carlisle queried from in front of us, both he and Esme laughing softly.

"It hasn't happened yet," Emmett said, swinging my hand a little.

Behind my own quite genuine layer of happiness, I could feel Edward's pain. Jealousy, frustration, sadness. It was unfair for me to be so happy and carefree when he was so painfully alone and forlorn. It would have been worse, however, to attempt to reassure him so I tried to ignore it and the nasty shiver that went down my spine.

We bantered playfully for a block, until we turned onto West State Street and were suddenly in the midst of a lot of humans. Emmett turned to give Jasper a questioning look and a kindly wink.

"He's OK," he told me quietly.

'_Is he?'_ I asked Edward.

He bristled inwardly and I regretted the action which had, for a moment, felt innate and instinctive.

'_Yes,'_ he told me. _'He'll manage. He hunted not long ago, remember?'_

I felt a twinge of guilt, followed by a larger inundation of it. Emmett and I had only returned a day ago from our '_outing'_ together which had lasted almost four days.

'_Keep an eye on him though?_'I gently suggested.

'_Not like I've got anything else to do,'_ he replied shortly and I felt the mental equivalent of being shoved out of his mind.

We hadn't discussed it yet, but I was certain that my going away for four days and nights for a marathon of practically non-stop lovemaking with Emmett had _not_ contributed to Edward's mental health. I knew I had felt his presence for a lot of the time, if not _all_ the time – I had at times managed to shut him out – and it stood to reason that he would have felt _me. _

I couldn't fault his resentment.

Up ahead, there was a particularly loud voice, rising above the others in it's shrill and demanding nature. A woman was yelling and trying to stop people on the street, offering her wares as a psychic.

"Only twenty bucks a reading!" she was proclaiming. "See what the future holds for you, what those little signs and omens mean for you and those you love!"

Behind me, Jasper snorted with amusement. "Good thing Alice isn't here," he muttered under his breath so we could hear, but no-one else could. "She hates those kind of people."

Unfortunately, we were going to have to walk right past her. I sighed with mild annoyance; some humans could be deeply irritating.

Her shrieking became louder as we approached the theatre. People were bodily swerving to avoid her, but she didn't seem to care. As she came into view, I suppressed a snort. She couldn't have looked any more clichéd if she'd tried. Black hair hidden beneath a red and blue silk scarf, silver hoop earrings, shawl, skirt with sewn coins that rattled and shook as she moved and a leather pouch around her middle. The black boots were frayed and worn, as were her stockings. The only thing about her that wasn't quite so stereotypical, was her loud, New York accent as she shouted out to random passers by.

"C'mon! Cross my palm with silver, gold or green and I'll tell you what the fates have in store! Tarot, palmistry...take your pick! Money back guarantee if you're not satisfied!"

I saw Carlisle reaching inside his wallet without thinking, ready to give the woman money without wanting anything in return. When we were close enough that I could see the slightly crazed look in her eyes, he handed it to her with a kind smile and a polite refusal of her services.

"But good sir!" she protested, still in a heavy New York accent not quite befitting someone masquerading as a gypsy psychic. "You are too kind! Allow me to give you word of your future!"

"No thank you," he replied politely. "We have to be somewhere I'm afraid."

"It'll take no time," she assured him, earnestly; eyes a little too wide to be normal. "Your kind can move fast enough when they want to, right? You won't be late, I'm sure."

We all froze.

"Excuse me?" Carlisle asked, after a cold beat of silence.

She shrugged casually. "Why? Did you do something rude?"

"You said...you said, _our kind_," he repeated, moving closer to the girl and lowering his voice considerably. Emmett moved to cover me slightly in an inbuilt stance of protection. Edward's interest perked and he moved forward, curiously, while Jasper stayed back.

Now she looked confused. "You prefer the term '_vampire'_?"

"We are no such thing," Carlisle answered automatically.

The woman looked somewhat annoyed. "I don't know if you heard my hollering, but I'm a psychic! What kind would I be if I couldn't tell the difference between a human and one of you guys?"

"And you're not afraid?" Edward asked, moving to stand by Carlisle now. "You think we're...not human and you're not afraid?"

The woman's eyes flashed to Edward and her lips parted. For a single moment, I felt a very real stab of fear go through me that she was about to announce something out loud.

"No," she answered finally. "I'm not. I grew up in Flatbush." Then, not removing her unblinking stare from Edward's face, she said, "You. I'll read you."

He took a massive step back. "No, thank you."

But those eyes wouldn't move off of him. "You sure? I'd want to know what was coming if I were you, honey. Just 'cause you're a mind reader, don't mean you're invincible."

Fear stuttered through him, jarring his mind. "I said no."

When she started speaking in her mind, we both jumped a little. Thankfully, no-one seemed to notice the synchronicity of the action, all focus set directly upon the strange psychic. Her internal voice was softer, but directed with an underlying urgency.

'_Only half of a whole, split down the centre...I can see you as you are, vampire. See the mess of knots in your heart and the twin soul you struggle to conceal. That soul is going to break free soon and the two halves will unite, permanently. Nothing will change it from then on, but three things threaten it coming to pass. Should these three things occur, then the moment shall expire and the twin soul will remain split and shared, trapped and yearning for freedom. The first is time, the second is love and the third is obligation. Time shall mock you, love shall corner you and obligation shall destroy you. Time, love, obligation.'_

She shrugged again as though she had thought nothing of the sort. As though she hadn't torn through our mutual subconscious with a single paragraph of combined words and knowledge. She never quite took her eyes off him. "Suit yourself."

"We should go," Emmett said, still holding my hand, which had felt entirely, horrifically numb until he squeezed it.

"Yes, we really should," Carlisle said, sounding more shaken than I'd heard in years. "Goodnight," he bade the woman before starting to walk away. Edward followed him after a beat, breaking his gaze from the strange woman.

I forced myself not to look at her as we passed, but I _felt_ her eyes on Edward for the rest of the road until we finally turned into the theatre.

"Well," Emmett said loudly, once we were safely inside. "That was unexpected."

Jasper chucked; I sensed it was forced. "Didn't see that coming."

We were all looking to Carlisle to see how to react; such children at heart.

"It's not unheard of," he said, removing his jacket and handing it to the young boy waiting patiently to hang it for him. "Just rare."

"I've heard of mediums, genuine ones," Esme contributed, slipping off her beautiful velvet cloak. "But as you said, quite rare."

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. The performance was entrancing, the music as beautiful as I remembered the first time I had heard it and there was a lovely feeling of togetherness, even despite missing Alice.

Only nothing could block out what was running through Edward's mind, and therefore mine. What that woman had been thinking, what she had _seen_. She had known he was reading her mind; she had spoken to him through it.

'_... Time shall mock you, love shall corner you and obligation shall destroy you. Time, love, obligation.'_

I could do little else but repeat those particular words over in my head, numb and hollow as I outwardly smiled and contributed to the family outing.

Time, love, obligation. Our ritual, our mantra...our Goddamned _prayer_ turned around and weaponized, piercing my heart and dripping fear into words that had served as powerful comfort and strength over the decades.

They left his mind days before mine, while I could not shake the feeling of deep unease and disquiet that settled into my bones ever since then. The future was a dark, ominous cloud; obscuring everything within sight, tainting everything in the present. Deeply buried within, the sick ache to know _more_ of what it was she'd hinted at, but when I returned alone, a few days later, she was long gone.

* * *

**-Saturday 18****th**** March 2006-**

Time.

Love.

Obligation.

Each word representative of an event that had led us here, to this desperate, agonising scenario that was going to destroy us both the moment my defences crumbled beneath the weight of his determination.

Time had made fools of us, cheating us of precious moments that would have made all the difference. A phone call that came two minutes too early, a revelation made too late.

Love...love had us pinned here, backed into a corner just as she had foretold. Love had made me weak, slower than I would have been had I not been so wholly wrapped up in the person chasing me. Love made us sloppy. Love was what drove me to keep him out.

Obligation would destroy us, him first. It was only a matter of time, the breaking of the barrier. I knew I couldn't hold on much longer and when it broke...oh yes, obligation was going to rip the foundations of our world to pieces, and take Edward Cullen with it.

The irony was unbearable; some irrefutable evidence of a cruel deity watching and laughing as we struggled to endure the brutal twists and turns that filled our existence.

I had to jump – it was the only thing I could think of to do that might have even a chance of working. The water would shut my mind down, like it had done for Edward. It would force it to stop working and then he wouldn't be able to see inside it. I wouldn't die; that I knew solidly. But I could avoid the maelstrom; prevent the madness, at least postpone it.

He was watching me with careful, narrowed eyes. Thus far, I knew he hadn't read my thoughts but he was trying to make out the shape of them anyway. He had to be able to feel the fear, burning throughout my body.

"Rose," he breathed, the soft exhalation lost upon the blustery winds. "What is this?"

And I couldn't do it...couldn't let him see, let him know.

So I closed my eyes, spread my arms wide and let myself fall backwards.

...*...

**-Four Months Ago-**

It was rare times like this, that I knew exactly _why _I went out of my way to avoid fighting with Jasper. My brother and I shared something of a sibling bond and almost always found ourselves on the same side of the fence.

_Almost_ always.

"I just don't understand," he ground out, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. "Why you won't listen to me!"

I wrung my hands together, grabbing at the tight flesh of my palms and pulling at my fingers, nervously. I knew it was my trademark gesture; exposing my inner anxiety and vulnerability and all that cliché crap, only it _was _involuntary, despite how much I was aware of it.

"I've heard you, Jasper. We both have and as much as it's driving you insane, I can't change it any more than you can." It sounded cold, but really I was just getting tired of it; tired of trying to convince him that this wasn't something we were intentionally maintaining.

"I refuse to accept that," he said, dropping his hand and gesturing to ground once more. "Get him here and we'll try it again."

"I realise that it's a stretch for you," I snapped. "But if it hasn't worked the first five hundred times, maybe it's _not going to work at all!"_

He glared at me. "At least I'm trying to do something about it."

All the way from inside the house, Edward's anger spiked through me, leaving traces of heat and irritation. Jasper's eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

"Do you know how that feels? Sensing him _through_ you?"

"Yes, well it's not exactly a ball for us either!" I retaliated hotly, borrowing Edward's searing resentment to embolden my own somewhat lacking anger. "But I think we've established by this point that meditation isn't going to work!"

He made a disgusted sound and looked away, furiously staring at the impressive wilderness surrounding our house. Rain was only a few hours away; the air was heavy and moist with the weight of a nearby storm. We weren't far away enough that we couldn't be overheard, but Jasper was obviously reaching the end of his already limited patience. This outburst was overdue, if anything.

"Because you're not really trying," he insisted wildly. "You don't want it gone!"

That hurt. Both Edward and I reeled back from that comment.

"How can you say that?" I spluttered. "Do I _feel_ ecstatically happy to you? Am I singing from the hilltops about how much I _love_ having this...connection, or whatever the hell it is?"

His dark eyes struck mine. "But you're not trying to remove it."

I wished I could explain to him the sense of permanence both Edward and I felt. I wished I could tell him that somehow, we both just _knew _it wasn't going anywhere; the same way any immortal's gifts weren't. I wished he could know that and simply accept it.

"It can't be stopped, Jasper," I groaned. "Christ, why won't you _trust _me?"

"I trust _you_, but not your judgement."

"Oh, because you're Mr Good Judgement? "

The glare narrowed. "Comparatively, yes."

"Nothing has changed, not really!" I insisted. "We're not running off into the sunset together, so why does it have to be a big thing?"

"Because you're not in your right mind, either of you! Because this is too much insanity, even for you two! Because it's unhealthy, Rosalie! Because..." He fell short suddenly, as if stopping himself before he said something he would regret.

"What?" I demanded. "Because what, huh?"

His face set in determination, though his eyes softened a little.

"Because I'm afraid for you both; I'm afraid that you're going to get lost inside each other and never come back."

'_Gee, that was a little more purple prose than I'm used to from him,'_ Edward deadpanned. '_Do you want me to come outside and back you up?'_

'_No,'_ I answered. _'It will more likely escalate if you join in.'_

My eyes had gone glassy without even realising it and when they regained focus, Jasper was glaring even more than before.

"And that, for example, is really getting annoying. It resonates in my brain like a cell on vibrate!"

"So tune it out," I hit right back.

He was silent for a whole minute and I actually thought, stupidly, that I had beat him into submission. When he spoke again, however, it was evidently not so.

"It's not because it's annoying me, Rose,' he said, less hostile now. "But you can't see it from an outsider perspective. What's between you now...you're so close to merging into one mindset, it's frightening. It shouldn't be that way, there's no precedent as far as I know, and I've been doing some research of my own. It scares me that this _thing_ has morphed into something tangible. Something real, that other vampires could sense and acknowledge if and when we come across them."

I sighed again, most of the anger draining out of me. "I _know_, but you're not helping the situation by doing this."

"There have to be boundaries, Rose," he told me. "There has to be something stopping you from slipping into him and vice versa. Like I said, you can't see it from the outside but I can. I can see how close you both are to dissolving into each other and believe me, if you could see it, you'd be in China by now."

I actually laughed at that and he cracked after a moment or so, rolling his eyes and relenting. I knew he hated fighting with me as much as I did and really, there was never anything to be gained from it.

"I'm sorry," I told him, reaching out and touching his arm. "Please don't let this be something that comes between us, OK? I love you, Jasper. You're my brother and I love you and this new weirdness isn't going to change that."

He returned the gesture with an affectionate smile, though there was a distant sadness in his eyes.

"It's not anything between _us_ that's going to change."

We left it at that, neither one wanting to provoke a full blown altercation, but what he'd said stayed with me. I couldn't help but hear those words over and over again, rolling through my mind – and Edward's by default – until they began to lose all meaning individually.

'_...you're so close to merging into one mindset, it's frightening.'_

And of course, it didn't help that those words went eerily in accordance with the first part of the street psychic's dire prediction.

'_That soul is going to break free soon and the two halves will unite, permanently.'_

It felt like the first indication that something was coming. Something neither of us were prepared for in the slightest.

* * *

**-Saturday 18****th**** March 2006-**

He caught me, of course. Before I could even fall a foot backward, he grabbed me and yanked me forwards until I fell onto the damp ground. His reflexes were impeccable and well trained, perhaps even better than mine as I hadn't been the one who's attention had been solely focused upon an accident prone human for the last few months. I tried to pull away from his rescuing grasp, but it was unforgiving and mindless.

We landed in a heap, my back against the dirt, his hands braced on either side my shoulders and by some miracle of restraint, he pushed himself up before our faces could touch.

Distantly, thunder rumbled in the skies and sent a towering sense of menace rolled throughout my nervous system.

"You stupid, selfish..." he hissed, and I could see the anger in his eyes, making him tremble. "How could you even _think_ of doing that? Did you honestly think I'd just let you, after what it did to me?"

I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak; paralysed by how small my world had suddenly become. Surrounded completely by a furious, shaking Edward Cullen. I closed my eyes, praying his trademark chivalry would kick in and he would feel some misplaced sense of guilt about the position we were in, though I had to doubt it. Laying on top of me would barely even register as something sexual, given our history together. Still, despite everything...I felt tendrils of desire and heat creeping through my cold, dead veins. I felt that heat crawling up the back of spine, my lips suddenly aware of each nuance of wind and air that played over them.

Most of his body was pressed against me, his legs on either side of my thighs, his midriff and torso flat against mine. We hadn't been this physically close in a very long time and _Jesus Christ_ despite the horrific situation, it was a monumental effort not to lean up that quarter of an inch and kiss him; just press my mouth against his and set light to the fuse. That would be all it took and we both knew it.

But much more powerful than that age old desire, was the pressure against my mind. He was executing the mental equivalent of hurling himself at the weak points in my defences, feverishly trying to break them down and see just what the hell I was doing and why.

There was a real, honest to God pressure behind my eyes and I thought I might scream if it didn't dissipate. Part of me wanted to kiss him just to distract him from his pursuit, but I knew the moment that happened...I wouldn't care enough to maintain the wall.

It took him all of five seconds to work that out.

After a brief look of realisation, he leaned down to kiss me and when I turned my face away, he reached up and turned it right back with his hand. His lips brushed mine before I had time to bodily roll to the left and dislodge him. The momentary contact was nothing less than an electric shock. He fell off, sideways and I scrambled to get up before he recovered. I had made it to my knees before he was _right there_ again, holding me by the wrists, something akin to astonishment and powerful suspicion all over his features as he knelt before me.

"Wh-what was that?" he demanded, breathlessly. I struggled and he fought back, keeping me there. "I felt something, Rose...what was it? You're-you're keeping something from me, aren't you? That's what this is. You're not trying to get rid of it because you're scared." His voice was low, eyes wide. "You know something and you don't want me to know."

Crumbling, breaking, cracking, dying...the foundations of the walls were shaking apart, losing integrity and it was a matter of minutes before he would _see and know _and then it would be over.

"Let me go," I cried. "Baby, please, _please_ let me go."

He blanched, obviously taken aback that I would stoop to using endearments; a rare trick, employed only in times of severe desperation. It worked long enough that I could wrench him off of me and pick myself up.

I ran as fast as I physically could and threw myself off the edge before he could even turn and see it.

...*...

**-Three Months Ago-**

It wasn't always like this; life wasn't entirely made up of sadness and sorrow. It couldn't be, or else we would have gone insane. There was normality. There was happiness. Silliness, playfulness, monetary issues, cars, movies, kissing, hunting, banter and laughter. Despite what it might have seemed, my life was not one endless cavalcade of calamities and disasters. There had to be _some_ kind of balance, even in such a tragic existence.

It was just that the lighter, happier moments faded into insignificance.

I thought about humans and the simple lives they lived. A set span of existence, some eighty years or so. Five or six main goals, all easily achieved with determination and effort. Rules to live by, regulations to keep them in line and happiness to keep them from noticing the minutes aching onwards. Love, children, marriage and success. Simple.

Sure, they betrayed one another. Cheated, lied, murdered, stole, raped, tortured and profited from the pain of others. They were brutal animals, capable of reaching extreme lows.

But they had one thing in common.

Death. They would _all_ die. Their days, however they chose to live them, were numbered.

And contained in the heart of that fact, there was something very simple.

Basic.

Uncomplicated.

For them, there would be rest. Peace. An end.

For us, however, there would not be.

There was no limited lifespan. No rules, no fear of death to keep us in line.

There was forever and it was a gaping mass of potential. The potential to screw everything up so completely and irreversibly.

I sighed, pushing the recycled air through my teeth. This was not a productive way to spend any amount of time, even if it was limitless.

The thing was, there were only so many books you could read, so much music you could listen to and even compose before your mind started to get a little hungry for more. There would always be favourites, of course. Things you could read or hear on repeat, but after so many years in stagnation, your perspective shifts. Knowledge, art and beauty are all well and good for the first few decades, but soon enough there comes a drive to _know_ more than any human could know.

Which is exactly where things start to get a little crazy.

Suddenly, concepts you held in high regard and had faith in – respect for human life, for example – are thrown headlong into a grey area. You look at those six billion messy creatures and wonder at their determination to save each other, to prolong that existence and destroy the planet as they do so. You feel all that knowledge impacting in the back of your brain, rendering you cold and clinical.

Ideals you were raised with, until that brutal death and consequential rebirth, are called into question. _Everything_ is called into question.

Religion starts to look increasingly like a rulebook written by frightened children who want to believe in an omniscient parental figure. War seems more like a matter of pride and arrogance, than of genuine hatred. Even marriage, after a while, appears to be yet another facet of religion and economy.

And then you make the fatal error of aiming that razor discernment inwards.

We were a powerful species, primarily driven by the baser instincts; sex, death and violence. It was only the residual humanity that forced us to cling desperately to that admiration for the mortal coil. That knowledge never went away, that we could at any given moment take a life. The snapping of bone, the tearing of flesh...it was all innate. The first time I bloodied my own hands, those sounds and sensations were of no shock to me. The reptilian brain, usually small and unexploited in humans, is exceptionally powerful in the mind of vampires. The primary directives are branded into our very bones. Blood and death; out hands and teeth were made to wield and deal out death. The fact that some of us, myself being one of them, refrained was a testament to the lingering traces of humanity.

Even despite those traces, the separation from all humans is a distinct one. The loneliness and isolation would be intolerable were it not for our family. To be surrounded by them, to see and hear them in everyday life and to _never_ be a part of their strange little existence...it had taken me many years to adjust.

I shivered, not from the cold, and wrapped my arms around myself. There were long since healed scars buried in those memories of my youth and stupidity; scars that hadn't healed quite right, as thought something was still buried beneath them and never pulled out. It was times like this, sat at the piano and unable to move, that I felt _old_. I felt those years pressing down into me, willing me into the ground that I would never know from natural causes. I would have to be killed to die; nature would never lure me into the dirt.

I looked down in detached fascination at my fingers and couldn't help but think of all the things I had ever touched. Without genuine intention, one body recurred more than anything else. The planes of his skin, his face, his long messy hair. I examined the pads of the tips; they had known the curve of his ears, the softness of his lips, the tight skin over his hip bones and the 'V' shaped plunge.

But they had also known his tears, had struck at his face with the intent to tear it clean off. They had torn at his clothes, torn into wood and carved names and words that would haunt me forever. They had struck keys and snapped a string belonging to this very piano, simply because I could not tolerate the idea of him loving another and composing music for her using this instrument.

Had there been a time when they had been _my_ hands? When they had not yet known and automatically sought the feel of his skin, as a moth seeks light? I was so completely possessed by him now that any traces of lingering individuality were fading fast. It was a terribly strange, almost invisible process but it was happening and I could feel it nonetheless.

Up until the Bathtub Incident, there had been fractions of myself that were still _me_. Rosalie Hale. Little partitions and aspects of myself that remained thus far untouched by Edward Cullen. The struggle to maintain individuality was always one of the primary reasons we kept some level of restraint between us.

But what could remain individual between two who shared _everything? _Mind, body and soul...quite literally.

The link between us was all consuming and growing stronger with each passing moment. We were inside one another _all the time_ and it didn't matter how much I distracted myself with Emmett, or how much Edward hunted and brooded...there was a real, live connection firing between us and it was never going to stop.

It was coming, hard and fast and I didn't think I could stop it.

We were going to bleed into one another...and never recover.

No individuality, no discernment, nothing but absolute, irrevocable completion. And it really was the right word, for once; completion. We would be complete. Two halves, melding flawlessly into the one they were always meant to be. No rough edges, no stubborn declarations of independence and autonomy.

I could be wrong, of course. Perhaps it wasn't quite so poetic. Maybe we were just two tragically dark beings, so hopelessly in love with what they can never have that they turn their life into a massive Shakespearian tragedy. But the truth was never simple.

Yes, there were moment of genuine, bright happiness in both our lives. Yes, we did laugh and joke, play around and enjoy parts of our existence. There wasn't always this mass of heartbreak and sadness, brought on by desperation and longing. There was hope and music and family.

But they were tiny fragments of diamond radiance, scattered across a vast, never ending sky. Echoes of light against the intransience of darkness. Beautiful and inspiring, but fleetingly helpless to illuminate that night sky.

Oh, there were endless metaphors for it. I could have waxed poetic for the next hundred years, but nothing changed the bottom line.

Where we were headed, was a place of irreversibility. What we would become, could never be unmade, untangled. We would lose everything except one another and while a good 99% of me was screaming in favour of that, there was a tiny portion - some vestige of individuality – that forbade it. Demanded that I find a way to resurrect the dying barriers between us before we fell into one another.

And this factor was the driving reason, despite what I convinced Emmett, that I went to England.

* * *

**-Saturday 18****th**** Match 2006-**

The impact of my body against the water was phenomenal. I landed flat on my back, some reverse version of a belly flop, and the sound echoed in my ears a moment before the water swallowed me whole. I let it take me, willed it to devour me and dull whatever electrical impulses connected me to Edward, both wishing it was that simple and knowing instantly that it never would be.

The darkness was almost total as the storm clouds were smothering any traces of sunlight. Silence filled me up and I exhaled the last of my stolen oxygen, helping the water pull me downwards. The coldness of the water was almost refreshing and I waited impatiently for the nothingness that Edward remembered of his last encounter with this element. I opened my mouth, still sinking ever lower, and told myself that this was it...I would breathe in and that would douse the synapses in my brain, render this insanity completely broken once and for all. I would shut him out of my mind even if it meant destroying it.

Part of me laughed cruelly at how _pathetic_ my attempts were. What was I trying to prevent, or more accurately...postpone? It couldn't be done, I knew he would find out soon, I _knew it_ but I just couldn't be the one to tell him, could never be the one to do that to him, not after everything he'd been through over the last few months.

I would _not_ do that to him. If this was the price, if I was selfish and unfair in my actions then so be it. I could not allow him to see into my mind and know the truth I so desperately wished I could un-know.

The water was crushing into me now, demanding that I allow it to fill me up, become a part of it. I wanted to, I wanted it so badly. To be a hiding child, relieved of the devastating responsibilities that plagued me.

The breath I took was wrenching agony, like forcing cement down into my lungs. Water should have been soft, I knew that, but it felt rock solid and razor sharp. I wanted to push it out straight away, but I knew if I did then it would have no effect. I held it in, despite the torturous pain and tried to think of how much easier life would be after this.

Something grabbed my hand then, pulling it violent upwards, dragging me form the welcoming depths and blackness. I struggled against it, but my strength was limited as I was trying to hold the water inside. I didn't even have to think of what it was, pulling me up.

The pressure of the water eased a few seconds before we broke the surface. Dark, grey light was there waiting for me, furious and foreboding as thunder and lightning fought overhead. Stubbornly, I held the water inside and it burned like acid. He was screaming at me, terrible words and curses as he yanked me ruthlessly in the direction of land. I kept my eyes as tightly closed as my mouth.

When my feet caught and dragged on large, smooth pebbles, he lifted me up and carried me the rest of the way, dropping me down when we were a few feet from the gently lapping waves of the lake. De Ja Vu hit me hard, reminding me of the first night I had confronted him, fought with him...known how deeply I was falling in love with him. I kept my mouth closed and focused on that memory, willing myself not to listen to anything he was saying.

'_Why should I stop? You care nothing for me, why should it trouble you to know of my petty tribulations? You wish I had died on that street, cold, dead and defiled!'_

'_You are confusing your own desires with mine,' He spat, seeming to lose all patience. 'It is __you__ who wished to be left alone to die on that street!'_

'_You revolting swine! I despise the very sight of you!'_

"_You despise that you cannot hide beneath your beauty, that your name cannot shield you from me. You despise me because I can see all the way through you and you cannot make your insides as beautiful as your outsides!'_

I wanted to laugh, because _nothing_ had changed from that first night, but I would have let the water escape and then there would be nothing left to hold onto.

He was slapping my face, not even a tenth as hard as he could, just enough to make his urgency known trying to make me open my eyes and spit out the water that would, any minute, destroy the living breathing connection between us.

"…dare even think of doing this to me, selfish, stubborn bitch! You open your eyes right now, do you hear me? Rosalie! Open you Goddamned eyes!"

Thankfully, I managed not to comply. I felt his hands all over my face, frantic and panicking, just like I had been when I'd dragged him out of the bath. There was a nasty spike of guilt, but I shoved it aside; this was for his good. I wouldn't die from this, it wasn't for attention or even to make a point. It was for him, all for him.

And of course, my own cowardice.

"Don't do this to me!" he commanded, voice fracturing under strain. "Jesus, Rose, come on! Spit it out and open your eyes! I don't know why you're doing this and I don't care! Whatever it is, whatever you think you need to do is irrelevant now! I love you, Rose. I'm right here…I am right here and you're _mine,_ do you hear that? I am over the whole guilt thing, I'm over Emmett and Carlisle and the shame of it because I was in love with you first! We are going away, tonight! The minute you open your eyes, I'm never letting them away from me again, you get that? You understand that, Rosalie Hale? I…I can't do it without you anymore! I will do whatever you want, give you whatever you want for the rest of eternity and I'll want nothing back because I'll have you! Now open your eyes and _breathe!_"

I had never know the meaning of the word confliction until then.

After a few moments of torture, my love for him won over my need to have everything he was offering me. I kept my eyes shut, my throat closed in the furious burning as the water began to push into my skull.

"Fine," he snarled, furiously. "You won't breathe? I'll _make you breathe!"_

His mouth was one mine, the very antithesis of tenderness. It closed over mine completely and before I could process what he intended to do, it was happening.

CPR in reverse.

He was pulling the water from my throat, as though siphoning gas from a car through a hose. He was stealing it from me, pulling it out and _Christ_ that was almost as painful as breathing it in. My arms shot up to push him away, but he held them down. I struggled to attain some leverage to kick him away, but he flattened my legs with his own and I was horribly powerless as he drank the water out of my mouth, taking it away from me in great gulps until there was nothing left, at which time he broke the contact to spit it out of his own body.

I gasped, tears streaming and allowed my eyes to open, defeated beyond what I could articulate. He was above me, holding me there with his eyes if nothing else. He was dripping wet, moisture clinging to every part of him, and he was so furious, he seemed to have actually gone beyond being angry at all. Instead he looked broken, abandoned. His face screwed up and he lifted a hand towards me, shaking so hard that droplets of water were flying from it.

"Why?" he croaked. "Why are you doing this, Rose? Is it so horrible, having me inside your head? Am I that…unbearable?"

Another stab to my already bleeding heart. I shook my head, helplessly.

"No," I rasped, my throat furious at the abuse it had suffered. "No, no, no."

His fingertips chased tears off my cheeks as he began to cry with me. "You want me gone?"

"No," I sobbed, reaching up with my free hand and clutching at his.

"Then what?"

I took a shallow breath, because it hurt too much for a deep one. The barrier in my mind was paper thin now, and only upright because he was not pushing in at it, too occupied with what was right there in front of him. The slightest push from him would destroy it now, but…there was one small chance that the water might have worked. Might have shielded my mind from his. If that had worked, then there was a possibility I hadn't allowed myself to consider until now.

If it had worked, if he couldn't read my mind anymore…we could leave together. We could do everything he promised, we could _be together_ and I knew without the slightest hesitation that I would do it.

"I can't…don't make me," I begged.

"OK," he said, nodding and leaning in closer, pressing his forehead against mine. "OK, I won't push. I'm not pushing, but please, _please_ tell me what's going on. I won't take from you what you won't willingly give, but I need to know, Rose. Tell me, please."

The feel of his skin against mine was breathtaking, even amidst everything. I wanted nothing more than to crawl inside of him and get utterly lost forever. Melt into him and let him become me, messy and tangled forever. That desire took precedent over all other instincts; survival included. But I needed to know if it was safe to do so, I needed to _know_.

I couldn't bear look out from behind the paper thin defenses to see if my ridiculous plan had worked at all. So I would take a massive risk.

"Edward," I croaked. "Edward, I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to answer it, OK?"

He nodded, caressing my nose with his and growling low in his throat. "Anything you want."

I swallowed and tried to hold onto my sanity before it fled.

"Wh-what number am I thinking of?"

He paused, opened his eyes and stared into mine.

All too late, I felt the paper rip…

...*...

**-Two Months Ago-**

"Man," Emmett sighed, staring out of the window. "This country's weather _sucks_."

It had been raining solidly for the last week; thick, heavy rain the likes of which I hadn't seen in many years. Forks had been renowned for its drizzle and grey skies, Ithaca with it's sunless showers and cold snaps…but this. This was something else.

"I like rain," I commended nonchalantly.

"Yeah, me too, but this is like…torrential _'Start-Building-an-Ark'_ rain. I wish we could go back to Africa, y'know? I liked the sun and the sea and the sharks. This place has tea, rain and kids covered in gold jewelry, with really bad attitudes," he mused. "What is that word they use?"

"Chavs?" I supplied helpfully, skimming through yet another directory.

"Yeah, that's it. So are we going out tonight?" he asked.

"Uh, I don't know baby. Haven't you had enough of the culture yet?" I asked distractedly.

He laughed and turned away from the window. "Nah, I like it. They talk so funny, I want to hear them talk some more. Can we go downstairs and make the receptionist say things with her weird accent?"

"Oh yes," I deadpanned. "This is truly the honeymoon to end all other honeymoons."

"Say it with a British accent," he pleaded, approaching the bed where I sat. "Say '_honeymoon'_ in a British accent."

"New kink, baby?" I teased.

"Maybe, what are you even reading? Yellow Pages? Thompson Local? Who are you looking for?" he asked curiously.

"I told you, an old friend of Carlisle's, remember? He's like a vampire specialist."

The bed dipped as he knelt upon it, crawling closer to me. "Right, and remind me why we're looking him up?"

I finally looked up at him and met his gaze, warm and inquisitive.

"Because," I answered, taking a deep breath. "He specializes in vampires with telepathy."

Emmett cocked his head to one side adorably. "Uh-huh, and…?"

"And I thought maybe he'd be willing to help Edward."

"Edward? You think he can help Edward?"

"Yes, I do."

"How?"

"Look, I know what his official reasons are for skipping across the globe are; looking for Victoria, keeping Bella safe, and so on, but I know it's not only that. There's a part of him that can't bear to be around us anymore, his family. You know why? Because we're starting to affect him."

A frown blemished Emmett's perfect face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, with our thoughts. He has to be around us all, hearing what we think; it's enough trouble for him to keep his own thoughts in line right now, how hard must it be for him to also deal with our thoughts too? I just…I think if we can get some advice on how to build barriers, keep our thoughts inside our heads where they belong, it might make things easier for him."

The lie was easier to tell, having been twisted around truth.

"So, you think…what? This guy can tell us how to block him out of our heads when we need to?" Emmett clarified.

"Yes, I do."

"And you think he needs that? Being cut off from those around him?"

"He's not around anyone, Emmett. He's alone, on some insane hunting mission and I think at least part of the reason for that lies in that he can't bear to hear our thoughts anymore!"

"Baby," he admonished slightly. "You think maybe you're overreacting a little? It's never been an issue before, he's got a pretty good handle on his mind thing."

"Before this whole Bella Issue, yes, I'd agree with you. But it's different now. He's not as strong as he was before and I…I can't imagine how it must be affecting him. Never being alone inside your own mind. I just want to help him, even if this is all I can do, I want to help him."

He softened completely after that. "OK, babe. If that's what you want to do, we'll do it. We'll find this guy and see what he says, OK?"

I smiled and pulled him to me, easily distracting him as I forced myself to believe him, that everything would somehow be OK.

It would be two weeks before we found the vampire who posed as a Doctor. It would be another week after that before he would show me the techniques required to build any resistance to the connection.

It was a month before we left England and continued our honeymoon throughout Europe.

It was a month and three weeks before we went back to Ithaca.

It was two months before I would get the call from Alice that would change everything.

Two months before I would see Edward, fresh from Brazil. Two months before he would track me down, miles from our house in Ithaca.

Two months before I would snatch his cell phone and crush it in my hands so he would not receive the call from anyone, telling him what I wished I didn't know. That Bella Swan had jumped off a cliff, killed herself…was dead.

Two months before my poorly constructed defenses would fail me.

Two months before he would look right into my eyes and know what number I was thinking of.

Two months before he would read my mind, see what I had been trying to keep from him…

Two months until the world as we knew it, ended.

* * *

**-Saturday 18****th**** March 2006-**

He knew. Oh God, he knew. I watched his face as he tried and failed to process the information, but he _knew_ it all the same. Bella was dead, she'd killed herself and I had failed to protect him from it.

At first, I thought he'd gone into shock. His face went so horribly blank that I was afraid something in his mind had simply snapped. But with the uselessly weak defenses completely gone now, I could see into his mind as much as much as I dared and I knew his mind was, thus far, intact. I could not bring myself to go deeper, to delve into the building whirlpool of horror that I sensed without even trying to.

Very slowly, he released me and drew back, eyes never leaving mine. He reared back onto his knees and I somehow managed to pull out from underneath him, drawing up into a sitting position.

Thunder rolled in the distance, the air was polluted with electricity. It seemed to signal the end of the world.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I tried to keep it from him. But the words never formed, they just wouldn't. I began to fear that he would never move from this spot, just as he blinked once, very slowly and drew in a breath with which to speak.

"She's…dead?" he exhaled, very softly.

Another two tears and I nodded numbly.

"Alice…saw it?"

I couldn't un-stick my throat, couldn't even move but it didn't matter; his questions were entirely rhetorical. I could feel him slipping away, detaching from me and this world and everything around him.

Another three minutes of loaded silence before he spoke again.

"Maybe she's not dead," he breathed. "Maybe…maybe Alice saw wrong."

I wanted it to be true, badly, but fate was never so kind, especially not to us.

"Where's your cell?" It was the prelude to a demand. In a few seconds, the numbness would melt away, the shock would fade just enough for him to become furiously, cataclysmically angry. I wasn't afraid; if he was going to be angry with anyone, it was going to be me, I would see to that. "You broke mine, didn't you? So I wouldn't….couldn't receive any calls."

The anger was forming now, black and merciless.

"You were going to keep this from me, weren't you?" His voice was three octaves lower than it should have been. "You weren't going to tell me."

"No, I was trying to…protect you."

He snarled dangerously. "Where is your cell?"

"Edward, please," I tried weakly. "Please don't do this…"

His eyes were burning into mine, searching for that cellular phone so he could call Bella and prove that she wasn't dead. Not dead, not his Bella. I had tossed it somewhere about half a mile away while I'd been running from him. Back when he had been chasing me, trying to get to me to beg me to go with him.

He ascertained its whereabouts and was gone exceptionally fast, even for one of our kind. I forced myself to my knees, trembling violently and tried to follow him, but I couldn't move as fast as he could and it took me a lot longer to get to him; at least two or three minutes.

By the time I got close enough to hear, it was already too late.

He was staring at my cell phone with a terrifying blankness, not moving, not breathing, not reacting. He stared at it as though it held all the secrets to the universe, and they were all bad.

He didn't even look at me as I approached.

"There was a boy," he said, in an almost normal tone of voice. "He told me Charlie was...he's at the funeral."

I stopped dead, hand rising to my mouth of it's own volition.

"You say you're sorry," he whispered, much lower. "And I will kill you."

"Please," I begged, not really knowing what I was begging for. "_Please._"

His eyes slammed into mine, the sudden flash of intensity was unbearable. "_How could you not tell me?_"

"I just couldn't," I tried to say, but it came out breathy and weak.

"Listen to me when I say this," he said, sounding almost normal, except for the undertone of razor sharp pain. "Because what I'm saying now will be my last words to you." Before I could open my mouth to speak, he was right there in front of me. "You have betrayed me, Rosalie, and I will never forgive you for it."

The blow was not unexpected, but the reasoning behind it was. He didn't hit me to hurt me, he didn't do it to make himself feel better.

He did it so that I couldn't follow him to stop him from what he was going to do. I was furious that he hit me hard enough to actually make me fall down, to make the world blur and darken and give him those precious seconds he needed to run far, far away.

I just lay there on the grass; head swimming, heart drowning. It was too much, way too much and nothing would sink in. I had failed him, tried so hard to protect him from the truth and now that he knew he would go to the Volturi, I knew it. He would die despising me and I would probably die too, from sheer loss and inability to survive without him. It didn't register – didn't seem real. Like watching a movie or something, watching it happen to someone else. It couldn't be happening to me, because no being – human or otherwise – could seriously cope with this.

I realised the cell was ringing; I clawed my way to it and answered completely on instinct, sounding horribly normal.

"Hello?"

It was Alice. "Rose, I need to talk to Carlisle _now_."

"He's out," I lied flawlessly. "Not here."

"Fine, as soon as he's back," she insisted impatiently. "Look, have you heard anything from Edward?"

The name struck through my glassy eyed moratoria and white hot anguish shot through me, ripping my nerves apart. Oh no, no, no, no…

"Yes," I said, voice trembling slightly. "I…I told him about Bella."

She had to know, they all had to know that I had told him – that it was my fault, for not being strong enough to hide it from him. They had to know so they could save him, stop him from doing whatever he was doing.

The horror in Alice's voice barely even registered with my own. "Why? Why would you do that, Rosalie?"

"Bella's dead and I thought he needed to know," I told her, forcing myself to sound as cold as possible; let them all hate me, blame me, despise me…no more than I deserved.

"Well, you're wrong on both counts, Rosalie, so that would be a problem, don't you think?" she said and it took a moment to process that.

Slowly, my mind opened up to the possibility that…"Bella's alive?"

"Yes, that's right, she's absolutely fine."

_No_. How could she be wrong? "How could you be wrong, she jumped off a cliff, tried to kill herself!"

"Look," she snapped. "It's a long story, but you're wrong about that part too, that's why I'm calling!"

"You…you saw Edward go to the Volturi." I didn't even have to ask.

"Yes, that's exactly what I saw," she replied coldly.

Edward was going to die. Oh…God. "I'm sorry," I babbled, the words tumbling numbly past my lips. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's a bit late for that, Rose. Save your remorse for someone who believes it."

She hung up sharply and I was left on the ground, shaking apart, listening to dead signals.

The world we'd constructed around us had finally come crashing down and it was all for nothing. I had destroyed Edward's cell, no-one could contact him to insist that Bella was alive. Good intentions come back to destroy us.

I wanted to stay right there and dissolve into the earth. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would feel it when he died and I prayed to whatever bastard of a God it was who reigned over us, that it would be enough to kill me as well.

* * *

_A/N – I cannot even begin to say how difficult this was to write or how many times I re-wrote it to finally come up with this. I know I've already used the metaphor that writing is like giving birth...well, this was like raising the kid until it's eighteen. This was monumentally difficult._

_HOWEVER – I do, actually, really love this chapter. It has been a long time coming, taken a lot of prep for this twist which I hope isn't to OOC for anyone. I promise it's not going to derail canon, just watch the next chapter if you don't believe me. Of course, I'm kindly asking that everyone just dismiss Midnight Sun and that chapter floating around online with the ACTUAL scene where Rosalie tells Edward. This is what really happened, Meyer just doesn't want you to know._

_So. It's 6AM now and officially the latest I've ever stayed up writing but I love you guys so much and feel obscenely bad about the delay. Please know this is NOT how long it's gonna be with every chapter from now on, just that this chapter kinda challenged me completely; as a writer and as a human._

_I have only three words._

_REVIEW._

_REVIEW._

_REVIEW._

_Yes, one word three times but c'mon people...6AM. That's love, right?_

_Also, I have to warn people that this method of skipping over large portions of time is going to be used again. Because seriously? 800 pages, 302'000 words and 38 chapter and we're not even done with New Moon? That's DAUNTING. I'd like to have this story done before I require wigs and long walks in the park so, yes – this technique will be used again at some point, but fear not...it'll be long and arduous and annoyingly full of waffle as always._

_Love you. *Passes out*_


	39. Chapter 39: The Dark Side of the Moon

**-Chapter Thirty Nine: Dark Side of the Moon-**

'_And if the dam breaks open many years too soon,  
__And if there is no moon upon the hill,  
__And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too,  
__I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.  
__The lunatic is in my head.  
__The lunatic is in my head.  
__You raise the blade, you make the change,  
__You rearrange me until I'm sane.  
__You lock the door, throw away the key,  
__There's someone in my head but it's not me.'_

_-Pink Floyd_

* * *

A concept quite unbeknownst to most; the truth is devastatingly destructive, especially raw. Its capacity for damage in certain situations is practically limitless and something that humanity avoids, albeit unconsciously. Too much built on sand to tear down and start afresh; too many lies, too much at stake. Truth will never keep you going, it will never protect you, never keep you safe and warm. It will break you apart, rip you raw and wide. Who wants to know the truth, really? Especially when lies are so much more glamorous and ultimately comforting. There is a powerful misconception permeating the world about the concept of lies. A biblical sense of right and wrong applied to a concept too convoluted to even categorise. Lies will save you, give strength in times when nothing else can.

Yet sometimes, we pursue this truth, despite knowing that nothing good will ever really come of it. A masochistic species to the very last; though the truth will shock you to the very core of our inner self...there is sometimes an innate need to have and know the underside of all things.

Why? Because despite the contentment that accompanies that world of deception and lies, the essence of who we are mostly rejects these untruths. Weare driven by this _need_ to know beyond what we are presented with. To know more, to know everything until we know too much and cannot forget. Ugliness, hatred, pain and grief - we embrace it all to know the truth and accept that it will be branded upon us until death. There is always a tiny chance that the truth will bring us happiness; it would be happiness born of truth and that, somehow, would justify everything. _Real_ happiness; not manufactured, although beautiful, lies.

Another misconception is the common misuse of the light/dark analogy. The idea of lies are often visualised as darkness; truth as light. A backwards perception of the unwelcome reality.

Truth, like darkness, is immovable and completely natural. You can only shine a light for so long, before the energy drains and the darkness encroaches. The sun must sustain itself to continue illuminating up those surrounding planets and even so, is not infinite. Darkness is the only stable, infinite phenomenon in the world; it will be there forever after everything else has gone. The same applies to the concept of truth. Lies, however comforting, only last so long, before they capitulate to truth - light can only burn so long before it succumbs to the darkness.

Light and lies, truth and darkness. It's easy to get confused and the permeation of the backwards analogy has obvious motives and origins.

Why do we do the things we do? Humanity will be recorded as the cruellest of all species, the most damaging and destructive of all other creatures throughout the history of existence. Animals kill indiscriminately for food; what claim do humans make for such a crime?

Our ever increasing list of discoveries are generated by a deep need for truth. Expanding further into space, deeper into the genetic makeup...pulling at the cord that binds us together, hoping to own that Godlike knowledge. A clear path to our own destruction, but in the name of truth...it is permitted. The truth drives us to insanity; we are relentless in our search for it. Yet there is another drive, a far stranger one, that often overrules this need.

Love.

There is no real reason that love should affect us as it does, yet the evidence is glaring. Love is the real reasons wars are fought. We battle and destroy because we are ruled by love; most ridiculous and primal of instincts, even above survival. Love separates us from the animals; sets us apart from all other creatures. No other creature would allow themselves to be so wholly ruled by such capricious emotions.

Love is all things; light, dark, lies, truth, tears, sacrifice and passion all intertwined with a need that drives us to our knees, to the very precipice of all reasonable logic and judgment. An explosive combination, wrought through the bones of each being in entirely different ways. Bittersweet destruction unless diluted with platonic affection and everyday normality. The catalyst of all things joyful and furious.

And because of this, demons dwell in all of us; cruel and spiteful, impatient and furious, passionate and treacherous. Do we inhabit the demon, or simply contain it? What is that feeling when the skin is no longer enough to contain what lies beneath it? When our bones threaten to break because the pressure behind is too much? That urge to hurt another, the aching twang of jealousy, the cold trickle of guilt when we cross our own boundaries, even in nothing but thought. At what point do we allow that demon to surface, to take control? The great magnifier of relative insignificant emotions. Envy twisted into theft, lust turned to a violation, anger turned murderous. People are murdered, raped and beaten until they break. The great truth of what sits beneath that veneer of smiles and civilisation. _Humane_. The word should be re-defined. We are the very antithesis of it.

Perhaps if we could accept this, we might have a chance at ruling over ourselves.

Instead, we look inside ourselves to that unnamed person and we realise that the rest of the world does not touch us, not _us_. We are special. We will make a difference and change the world, and when _we_ fall in love - it will be better, because we're intelligent enough to know when it's real. We forget how big a number six billion is, we forget as much as we can - and live our small lives, thinking we can affect change in not only ourselves, but in the world. We are capable of more. Capable of music, of beauty, of loving one another, of extreme sacrifice, of art and forgiveness. Of endurance and tolerance and the belief that we can better ourselves. We focus upon this and ignore the other side of what comprises of humanity. We lie to ourselves instead of facing the dark truth about what we are.

Because if we _all_ knew the truth, humanity would fail. Lies sustain us. Lies save us. Our world is built upon them; men found fire and light, and they learned how to lie. Gentle manipulations or bare faced deceptions, either way this is what keeps us together, whole and ultimately sane. It is for the best, the only intelligent thing to do in such an existence.

But then, some people never learn to do what's best for them, do they?

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

I had been lost before, many times in my unnaturally long existence. Though I knew I exuded strength and confidence – arrogance, even – there was well of uncertainty and weakness beneath it and sometimes, I felt as though I was drowning in it. This was different. I was lost in such a way that I didn't truly expect to ever find my way back to the world where my family stood around me, discussing what was to be done about the situation I had tried, and failed, to contain.

The key word there, being _failed. _

Not only owing to the fact that I had failed to protect Edward from the truth, or that I had failed to stop him leaving and seeking out his own demise. Not even because I had failed, though I continuously tried, to reconnect to his mind after he had viciously locked me out of it with skill that mystified me. No. I had failed on a very basic level; in a way that I couldn't completely wrap my mind around, but it was true. I knew that as a being I had failed. Because Edward was going to die and he wouldn't exist anymore. The simplicity of the equation was jarring.

"How is this even up for discussion?" Emmett demanded furiously, face very close to Carlisle's in an extremely rare indication of hostility. Our father remained outwardly calm, though not the least bit yielding. "We get on a plane and go to Italy!"

"For the last time," Carlisle insisted, unblinking. "No."

Emmett spun away, frustrated. "Why? This is ridiculous! We need to stop him before he does something stupid! He's gone there to die and we're going to do _nothing?_ Well screw that. Rose and I will go alone if we have to, like we were trying to do before. Right babe?" He didn't even glance in my general direction to get an answer, which was just as well because I didn't have one to give. My throat wasn't quite capable of producing speech at that juncture.

"No-one is going anywhere," Carlisle said, shoulders squaring ever so slightly. Emmett saw it; hurt seemed flash through him; a confused sense of betrayal.

"He's your son," he pointed out unnecessarily. "He's more your son than any of us are your children and you're going to let him die?"

"Alice and Bella are already on the flight, there's no point in us going as well."

Even in my detached state of mind, I could see Carlisle's logic. There was no sense in us flying to Italy when Edward was more likely to sense our minds and run another few hundred in the opposite direction. Not to mention, according to Alice's fractured visions, that we would be too late either way. If he died...then he died and what point was there for anything? If he didn't die then he would return to Forks; where Carlisle was advising us all to go.

But Emmett couldn't see that. He could only see his brother about to attempt suicide again and there was no way he would stand idly by while that happened. He had already tried this an hour or so ago, whereupon my return had triggered a number of things; mainly, Emmett grabbing nothing but his wallet and my hand and pulling me along as he tried to make his way to the nearest airport. Jasper, who had remained relatively quiet the entire time, had been the one to bring us back on Alice's strictest instructions.

"What about the Volturi? He can't fight them on his own, he'll need help!"

"He's not going to fight them," Carlisle sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "That's the whole point, Emmett. He won't be fighting them."

"Well, Goddamnit I will! I can't _believe_ we're standing here debating this! We get on a plane, we help Edward and we deal with this!"

"Yes, we will get on a plane, we'll do what we can but we're not going to Italy," Carlisle said. "I'm sorry, but that's final."

There was a long period of time in which no-one spoke. I sat counting the minutes until I could go to the nearest mirror and be alone to attempt to re-establish the connection, so I could scream the truth at Edward. Distance wasn't helping and he had mastered a way of shutting me out so completely that I felt horrifyingly lost and alone in my head once more; a silence and stillness that I had felt only prior to the Bathtub Incident. _Empty_, might have been the word had I not been so consumed and filled with a living, breathing horror, eating me alive and justifying it's actions by means of guilt. Only me inside my mind, no Edward, no presence, golden and familiar. Kept out and away by astonishingly strong mental barriers.

But if I stared hard enough, concentrated hard enough...maybe I could break through those barriers. The last time I had tried it, I'd nearly passed from the effort of exertion; had I been human, I was certain my nose, ears and even eyes would have been pouring blood. My skull had felt like it was going to split in two, cleaved by the agony of forcing my mind somewhere it was no longer welcome. The pain remained still and my body felt drained of all energy, an odd ringing in my ears. I knew everyone thought I had slipped into some state of catatonia or something, as I sat silently trying to regroup enough strength to try again.

I could feel the attention rotating towards me as the silence reached breaking point. I was sitting on the side of the kitchen counter, eyes downward but I knew they were about to involve me again. I suppressed a sigh, wishing to be alone but knowing there was no chance of it now.

"Rosalie? Honey, come on," Esme said, moving towards me. "You've got to stop blaming yourself."

God, she really was an amazing Mom. Look at her, lying to reassure me even thought nothing could be more painfully obvious than the fact that I was so completely to blame. Even more so from the point of view of everyone else. In their eyes, I had gone out of my way to inform Edward of this erroneous fact with spiteful purpose. And yet she still touched her hand to mine, eyes full of loving sympathy. It felt distant, numb; as though touching me while I was wearing gloves. "He'll be alright, I know it," she promised me.

I wanted to believe that; I did. I wanted to believe that somehow I would be able to get the truth across to him, even though it was bordering on impossible now. But I was a realist; sharp and cynical and full of too many cold, dark truths about life. I felt like the first person to know that the world was ending; by ice, by fire or by cosmic impact...it didn't matter. The world was going to end and nothing seemed to be _real_ anymore. Like it was all circling the drain, waiting for the collision that was distant, yet rapidly approaching. I felt helpless in the face of such staggering inevitability, as though I was holding up the sky itself. There was nothing I could do...nothing. I had failed to keep him out of my mind; a trick he was effortless mastering. I had failed to protect him from news that would break him in half. I'd failed to act quickly in those precious moments after Alice had told me the truth, I hadn't been fast enough, hadn't done what I should have. He was my responsibility, he was _mine_ in ways I couldn't even articulate and I had failed him.

I had failed and that knowledge was biting at the very structure of my being, tearing great chunks from what might have been my heart.

Carlisle shook his head, staring at the wall behind me. "You should not have told him, Rosalie," he said quietly. "_Why_ did you tell him? I want so much to believe that there was some misguided good intention buried beneath your actions, but all I can see is malice."

It was Jasper who spoke up in my defence, before Emmett had the chance to. "Listen, I know Edward. He'd consider it the highest degree of betrayal to keep something like this from him, even if it did turn out to be inaccurate. Imagine how he'd react if he knew that we had hidden the possibility of her death from him."

I would have laughed, had my body been so inclined to produce it. Irony, as always, so ready to slap me in the face.

"Exactly!" Emmett said, shooting Jasper a brief, but grateful look. "He had a right to know!"

"At the expense of his life?" Carlisle countered quickly.

"No-one is forcing him to overreact like this," said Jasper. "And he hasn't exactly been stable lately as it is."

"Precisely why it was the wrong move in telling him." Though he wasn't speaking directly to me now, I could feel Carlisle's disappointment as clearly as if he was screaming it at me. From an exterior point of view, I could see why. "It will be nothing short of a miracle if Alice and Bella get to him in time."

Bella Swan, racing to save Edward Cullen...my Edward, _mine_. The desire to laugh was powerful then, especially with the pressure of maintaining the basic infrastructure of my sanity. A miracle, huh? We were always in such short supply of those...never any luck, never the right timing. Maybe Bella would get to him, throw herself at him and make him see there was no reason for him to leave this world. Maybe Bella was owed a miracle; she was human, after all. Heart and soul, human. Maybe the Gods of this universe smiled more kindly upon stupid, clumsy humans than they did us.

"Which is why we should be getting on a plane to Italy right now!"

I'd never heard Carlisle sound so close to shouting; he seemed to be barely holding himself together. A feeling I appreciated. "Emmett, we are not having this debate again."

"Why? Because you say so? Edward is our brother, we won't sit somewhere nice and comfortable in Forks while he's torn apart by the Goddamned Volturi all because you say so! How can you be so pigheaded about this? Edward is your _son_!"

"As are you and I will not risk your life any more than I would risk his!"

"And how is Rosalie supposed to live with herself if something happens to him?"

"Rosalie _will live_ and that will be sufficient!"

"That's enough!" Esme shouted suddenly. Everyone turned and stared at her, Carlisle looking taken aback. "I have stood in for enough of these stupid fights to know when you're butting heads over something that can't be resolved and I'm sick of it! This argument is over as of now, do you hear me?"

"But..."

"But..."

"I don't want to hear any excuses. Emmett, honey – the reason we're not going to Italy is simple logistics. We won't make it in time. We'll go to Forks because I believe in Alice and Bella and I believe they'll make it. Carlisle, think about the kids for a minute. Think about how this is for them, especially Rose. She made a mistake, clearly she knows that better than anyone, and going over it on a loop is not helping. Now, I don't want to hear another word unless it's constructive – got it?"

Carlisle and Emmett nodded sheepishly while Jasper crossed his arms over his chest, staring at me with a concern I could practically feel. He had already tried making me feel better with his ability, but it had failed entirely. I sensed he was more worried than he could let on and that he knew something more had gone down than what I'd managed to explain.

Once Esme seemed to have resolved the issue, temporarily at least, she turned to Jasper. "Honey," she said in a much softer tone. "Can you try Alice again?"

"Yes Ma'am," he said with a small smile and whipped his cell out of his pocket, dialling with quick fingers.

"Emmett, book the flights. I've got my Blue Star Jets membership card somewhere in my purse, find it and call them. Pay anything they want. Carlisle, is there any way of contacting Aro or maybe Marcus without actually being in Italy?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No. I've already thought of that. Even if I could contact them, beg them to just hold Edward instead of killing him, it would probably make matters worse. They'd execute him on basic principal just because I asked them not to. They don't like being given orders."

"Alright," Esme said slowly, sending a glance towards me and then away again just as quick. "Then get on the phone to Tanya, sound her out enough to know whose side she'd be on if – and I mean _if_ – something goes wrong."

"Call won't connect, no signal," Jasper said, snapping the cell shut, looking to Esme. "So if something does go...wrong, you're saying we'd go to war with the Volturi?"

Everyone looked to Esme, the kindest and most peaceful of us all. Our mother in all the ways that mattered.

"If they touch my son, there won't be any going back."

I felt something like bile rise up in my throat, burning and acidic and was certain for a moment that I was going to be physically sick. I jumped down off the counter and headed towards the bathroom without a word, ignoring the four gazes that followed me and the hushed whispers that commenced as soon as I slammed the door closed behind me.

My knees buckled before I could quite get a grip on the crystal white, never been used cistern and I fell awkwardly, all my immortal grace abandoning me. I fumbled to pull myself up, gripping the sides hard; hard enough to crack the porcelain. Once I'd righted myself, I let my head fall down and for the first time as an immortal, my stomach actually contracted and rolled, sending an uncontrollable heave all throughout my body. Nothing came up, of course. I hadn't hunted in days and I badly needed to, but my body didn't seem to grasp that at all.

Another dry heave and tears rolled down my nose, dropping into the water beneath, sending tiny, short lived ripples along their way. I knew I couldn't be sick; another impossibility for immortals, but again, my body was slow on the uptake. Carlisle's theory popped into my mind as I tried to control my stomach. The whole, '_If-The-Emotions-Are-Strong-Enough'_ idea seemed to fit rather well with this latest phenomena.

After a few more minutes, it seemed to subside. Nothing had come out of my mouth, save for excess saliva, or venom. I wiped alone my jaw with my sleeve and fell away from the toilet, trembling in a way that might have been enough to dislodge the floor tiles, shake the very foundations of this house. I glanced to the right, at the beautiful bathtub and felt the nausea rise again, rollercoaster fast and just as unstoppable. I didn't both with the toilet this time, I just let my body roll and contract as it wanted.

That bathtub...he had been inside that. Lying there, at the bottom, underneath all that water. Eyes closed, face distorted and terrifyingly distant. He'd been so heavy, pulling him out. All full of water, still and motionless in a way that had made me want to be sick, even then. But I hadn't been able to accept that. I'd slapped him, screamed at him and then finally slammed my hands down on his chest, cracking rib and bone until the water was gone and he was left wide open, vulnerable and unable to hold himself together. He was cracking apart, losing control and it would destroy him, I could see it. So I'd held him together. I had caught those pieces before they smashed, held him close and tight and felt it as I bled into him. Felt him accept it, felt him regain control and consciousness. Felt him. One soul in two bodies, _finally_.

That had been so long ago...it seemed like years had passed since then.

When had we last kissed? Not those stolen, frantic moments when he was trying to obtain a secret that would destroy him...really kissed. My mind struggled to recall for a moment and then it came rocketing back.

The car crash, the rain, _Christ_ the rain...

He'd been there when I opened my eyes, dazed and confused beyond what I'd thought previously possible. Concerned and worried for my then ridiculously strong immortal body.

The terrible fight, awful things spat back and forth. Some of the worst things ever said to one another and it wasn't enough for either of us to walk away. Never enough. The way we tore into one another, ripping and shredding at what pillars of strength remained, because we had to break, had to fall, had to be naked of those exterior facades and masks before we could really see one another. Rip away the pretend lives and personalities, claw at the lies and the smiles and the false strength. The foulest words, the sharpest of insults and the deepest of cuts...right before that moment when it wouldn't matter anymore and the cruelties had completed their task.

He had tilted my chin up and kissed me then. In the rain, amidst the wreckage.

That had been it. The last time I'd felt his mouth on mine and that exquisite agony of knowing that I wouldn't be alone in my body much longer and that completion was only seconds away. That kiss, a beautiful prelude to what was coming.

If he died, that would be the last time.

The force of the next convulsion threw me forward onto my hands and knees; I choked and tried to control it, failing dismally.

If he died, I suspected that would be the way I would die. Those contractions wrenching through my body, twisting and contorting...they would explode into paroxysms of unspeakable agony until I could exist no more. A fish out of water, a flower without sun, one half of a soul without the other.

Somehow, in the moments that followed, I managed to pull myself together enough to control the spasms and reapply some makeup in the mirror. I tried again to reconnect our minds, with no success. I took one long look in the mirror, the bathtub right there in my peripheral vision, before I smashed it with my right hand and left that room forever.

**

* * *

**

-Jasper-

There had been very few occasions in the last twelve hours that I had taken my eyes off Rosalie and for my troubles I had discerned one fact without even having to extend my gift towards her emotions. If we lost Edward, we would lose Rosalie too. There was absolutely no doubt about it; if he were to succeed with his plan to commit suicide, then it would be the end of Rosalie too, probably on an involuntary level. I wouldn't be able to stop it and neither would anyone else. With all I knew of their involvement, it came as no significant shock that the death of one would automatically denote the death of the other. Where one went, the other would follow; it was a simple as that.

And for my part, what could I do? I was watching Rosalie prepare herself for what was coming, an obscene kind of acceptance quieting what I had assumed would be furious desperation to save him. She was compliant, still and frighteningly distant; as though she was already halfway out the door, just waiting for confirmation to lock it before she left. I sensed an overwhelming emotion that could have been basically categorised as guilt, but was far more complex and intense. Nothing I could send in her direction even touched her. Something serious had happened between them both and I couldn't get her alone to demand it's nature, discern what the hell we were up against so I might have a chance of fixing it. Emmett had taken it upon himself to protect her from potentially negative backlash and wouldn't leave her side.

The flights were booked and only hours away; we were restless in our anxiety, desperate for action of any kind almost and I wished I could be like Emmett, free to demand that we _do something_, instead of _knowing_ we could do nothing.

I was finishing packing up what little necessities anyone might have missed, but it was a method of wasting time. My cell rang suddenly and I almost dropped it in my eagerness to answer.

"Alice?"

She spoke in quiet, controlled tones, indicative of the flight she was stuck on and the people she was surrounded by. "Hey, we're still in the air. Bella's asleep. Have you heard anything?" she asked.

"Nothing," I answered, trying hard not to let the disappointment seriously injure me. "Carlisle has been trying everyone he can think of, but none are willing or even able to get into direct contact with them. Have you seen anything new?"

She sighed with frustration. "Nothing helpful. I'm still waiting for them to grant him an audience. If I concentrate any harder, my skull is going to crack."

"And he's not...deliberating at all about his decision?"

A beat of silence and then, "Is Rosalie in the room?"

I glanced around, tasting the air in more ways than one. She wasn't close by as far as I could tell. "No. Why?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

Her voice dropped to an almost inaudible octave. "There are tiny flashes of Rosalie when I focus on that. I don't know why, I'm thinking maybe it's the impact she made with the phone call. I didn't want her to hear it, to know that she's directly affecting his decision to live or die but it's...it's just strange and I can't imagine what she said to him to have such an impact on him. Has she spoken to you at all?"

I closed my eyes tightly. "No, she hasn't spoken much at all actually."

Alice snorted. "How diplomatic."

"It's not like that, Alice," I told her. "She's devastated."

"Yeah, I bet," she snapped. "Really broken up with it, I'm sure."

"How can you say that? She's your sister, you love her and she couldn't feel any worse if she tried, believe me."

"You always defend her," she accused quietly. "You're always the first one to be on her side, no matter what she's done. Even with this, you're defending her to the last. I'll never understand it, Jasper. Rosalie is family and I love her, I really do...but she's capable of being so cruel and spiteful and for what? A little competitive jealousy? The damage she's caused..."

"Hey! Just because Edward has decided to redefine the word '_overreact'_ doesn't mean it's Rosalie's fault! He could have gone to Forks, spoken to Carlisle, waited an hour before he jumped on the next flight to his own overdue demise, OK? Edward is still Edward, no matter who was going to tell him – he'll always be melodramatic and theatrical and that's not Rosalie's fault!"

"I'm so sick of this divide between loyalties, Jasper. You're _always_ on her side!"

"Well, you're always on his!"

"For good reason, usually."

"There you go again, assuming you know everything because you can see the future. Well, you know what, Alice? You didn't see this coming, you didn't see anything in time to actually do anything remotely preventative and there's a whole other bunch of stuff you haven't seen either, so if I were you, I'd cut the omniscient act! You might see a little further down the road than the rest of us, but that doesn't mean you're infallible."

Silence. I wondered for a moment if she had disconnected the call mid-rant, but then she took a breath.

"I guess time apart wasn't such a great idea after all," she said in a totally different, much more sombre tone.

"That was your idea," I pointed out, trying to reign control over my fluctuating anger. It was difficult to calm down as quickly as Alice could; I felt traces of the argument in my system long after she did.

"I know, a mistake I realise now. I...I miss you too much. It's affected my ability, I'm sure of it."

"It's the same with me," I said, leaning back against a nearby wall. "Look, I don't want to do this with you over the phone. We're both fractious, it's a bad time...can we just put aside our issues for a moment?"

I heard her take another little breath. "Yes, I'm sorry. You're right."

I allowed myself a small smile. "Can I get that in writing?"

"Never in a million years," she said quite seriously, but I could hear the affection. "I'm going to go now, OK? Bella will be awake soon. I need to concentrate some more and I think talking to you has helped."

"Alright. I love you, Alice," I told her, caught off guard by how powerfully I felt the impact of those words then.

"Me too," she said softly. "Talk soon. Bye."

She disconnected first, as always. I was left holding the cell, feeling somewhat wrung out. I hadn't expected to confront the issues that we'd been experiencing over the last few months and it had blindsided me. Typical Alice, of course. Always keeping me on my toes. Though I did better about the general state of our relationship, I felt exponentially worse about the situation at hand. Not only did things seem grim for Edward, but Alice was seeing flashes of Rosalie whilst focusing on Edward's questionable future; that _couldn't _be a good thing.

It made a sick kind of sense; Rosalie would have to have some level of involvement in Edward's potential death. But for Alice to have seen it did not bode well.

My mind prickled slightly. I sensed Emmett's approach and steeled myself for whatever was coming. I found myself weakened by how much I missed Alice and the worry of everything was weighing heavily on what little strength I had left. I sincerely hoped Emmett wasn't in the confrontational frame of mind he had been earlier.

"Hey," I greeted quietly as he knocked on the door; a cursory method of requesting entry. "How is she?"

He had changed clothes; jeans and a black shirt. He looked oddly formal; grave was the word, ironically enough. There was a weight in his eyes; one I felt I shared at least enough to promote an understanding of it.

"I..." I shook his head and closed the door behind him. "I don't know how she is. If she's even here at all, Jazz. It's like she's..."

"Distant?" I guessed, pushing away from the wall.

He looked down. "That would be one word for it. Can you...can you sense what she's feeling?"

"Guilt," I replied without hesitation. "Massive amounts of guilt."

Emmett let out an uncharacteristically impatient breath through his teeth. "I _know that_. I'm not stupid, I can sense that much myself. Of course she's feeling guilty, that's to be expected but..."

With a tight feeling of De Ja Vu, I reluctantly asked, "But what?"

He fixed me with an immovable stare. "If Edward dies, am I going to lose her as well?"

For a long, intangible moment I could only stare back at him, part of me longing to tell him the truth he always seemed to be on the verge of discovering anyway. At this rate, he would soon have lost them both – as he suspected – and I felt he deserved to at least know the truth, somehow.

But I was talented at thinking quickly and it took only another long moment to realise what a gargantuan mistake that would have been. He didn't want the truth, not really. He had come to me, of all people, so I would lie to him. Give him what he needed to be strong enough to get through this and that certainly wasn't the truth.

"I won't lie to you, Em," I started off, bare faced. "If he dies, you're in for a tough time. She'll blame herself completely and no-one is going to be able to get through to her for a while. But when someone does, it'll be you. You'll be the one she'll turn to. You won't lose her, because you'll be there for her. You'll get through it." It didn't even feel unnatural, lying to him like this. The gnawing echo of committing a wrong unto my brother was distant and fading sound amidst the rising crescendo of belief that I was doing him a favour. "Life goes on."

He nodded silently, processing what I was offering. He drew in a deep breath and accepted it with a shaky smile. "Thanks, man," he said, reaching to clap my shoulder with his large hand.

"It's going to be OK," I added, feeling that if I was going to lie, I might as well go the whole mile. "No matter what happens."

"Yeah," he said, as though convincing himself. "I just...need to hold things together, don't I?"

"Yes. And you can do that. You're strong."

"Strong, yeah. I can...I can be strong for her. Strong for Rose."

"That's right."

He took another deep breath and released my shoulder with a final decisive nod.

"OK. I'm OK. I can do this. Thanks, Jasper. Really."

There was so much heartfelt gratitude in those beautiful eyes that I wished I could think up more reassurances and deceptions for him, to help strengthen his heart and soul against what might be coming.

"Don't mention it," I said, rather lamely. "Do you need help packing up or anything?"

He looked confused for a second at my sudden change of topic. "Huh? Oh, packing. Yeah. No, Esme has done all that already. Rose was supposed to be, but she...she didn't. She was just kind of sitting on the bed, y'know?"

"It's alright," I was quick to say. "Like I said, it'll be alright. You know Rosalie, she's prone to a little drama every now and then."

There was that shaky smile again, a little stronger than before. "Yeah, you're right." He paused for a moment and seemed to shake himself. "You know what? This is probably all blown way out of proportion anyway, right? Edward is just like Rose in that respect; too theatrical for his own damned good. They're so similar like that, y'know? Deep and melodramatic and always overreacting. I bet he's just moping around Italy; Alice and Bella will probably get there before he's even decided to do anything serious. Right?"

"Right." No hesitation there at all, that time. If this was what he needed, if this was why he had come to me...then this was what I would give him. "If he was serious, genuinely serious...he'd have poured a bucket of gasoline over himself and lit a match."

That seemed to do something to genuinely strengthen Emmett's core belief of optimism and I felt almost as though I had done a good deed. "Yeah, yeah you're right."

"Of course I am. Look, Esme and Carlisle, even Alice...they don't know him like they think they do. Rosalie is too burdened by guilt to see straight, but you and me...we know Edward. We know him well enough to know the difference between a dramatic statement and a serious attempt to take his own life. Look at the Bathtub Incident."

It was working. Every word was giving him hope and belief for a future that would allow his life to continue as it was. That wouldn't result in him losing the people he loved the most. And he couldn't have been more eager to believe it.

"That's true," he said and for the first time that day, he sounded like my brother.

"Exactly. Now go see to Rose, because I'm willing to bet every minute you're away from her, she's slipping a little further into some angsty pit of despair and doom."

Without any warning, he yanked me into a full on bear hug, crushing me so hard I felt my steel strong bones creak and groan in protest. When he let go, he gave me a playful shove and left without another word.

Leaving me to contemplate the strangeness of a world that relied upon reassuring lies, instead of the truth, to get them through times of darkness. At this point, a concept that was bitterly familiar.

* * *

**-Esme-**

It made a certain amount of sense, that of everyone in our family, the children would assume me the least observant. I was their mother in all things but blood and biology and they were my children, heart and soul _mine_...yet there existed an assumption, perpetuated by my frequent silence on these matters, that I was ignorant of what went on in their lives.

An incorrect assumption, of course, because I was their mother. Though I refrained from involving myself directly, I was well aware of what went on between my children. And they _were_ mine. Carlisle and I had discovered decades ago, in the early months of our relationship, that the utmost love between us would not be quite enough to sustain me in my immortal life. I was born to be a mother, though such a concept in modernity would be reviled, and I could not tolerate an eternity without children. That had been a difficult stage; trying to convince him to give me Edward as a son, when there was a part of him that considered Edward as a brother more than anything else. But then no early stage of our relationship could ever be deemed easy.

Eventually, he gave in. This was not entirely my doing, either. Edward and his rebellion against Carlisle's obvious wisdom showed that the young boy was exactly that; a young boy, immortal or not. Carlisle was a man; he had been a man before he had entered his teen years. With Edward it was different and it took Carlisle a long time to see it. When Edward returned from his ten year absence, there was no question about it. Those ten years away from us had been difficult, to say the least. He was my son, he would _always_ be my son. He needed a mother and a father because he was broken, weak and a child at heart, despite his many years and experiences. Some ingrained maternal instinct, preserved through my human death, caught onto Edward and never let go.

So we ignored certain things about his lifestyle. I knew, for example, very well about his frequent trips out into the night in search of wrongdoers. I knew about the blood and the dark alleys and the bodies. I put it to the very back of my mind and never let him see that knowledge. Whether Carlisle was aware or not, I never knew. I didn't want him to know because Edward was not the same as Carlisle and honestly, no-one ever would be. Edward emulated him, was inspired by him...but could never be him. There was just something about Carlisle's brilliance that never failed to expose the darkest corners of others' souls. I said nothing, did nothing and for a while, some years at least, we achieved a pleasant balance. I had a son who began to look upon me with a fondness reserved only for mothers and a cavernous hole within me, began to fill.

I almost felt guilty when Carlisle brought a young girl, bloody, raw and beaten to the house, insisting wildly that he had to save her, had to change her. I had always wanted a daughter and felt acutely guilty of often vocalising this wish, fearful that I'd indirectly played a part in her brutal demise. She was beautiful, even blood smeared and battered. Rosalie Hale, a girl I had encountered before. I watched her die. Watched her become reborn and she felt like _mine_. My daughter, my child, because I had witnessed her rebirth. I loved her instantly, despite – if not _because_ of – her flaws. I could see, as only a mother could, the insecurity and uncertainty beneath that arrogant, sparkling armour.

And as I had ignored Edward's surreptitious murders, I proceeded to ignore the affair that started between them.

We had intended it, right from the off. Edward was lonely, unloved and often felt left out. He was a strange boy, caught in a world he knew too much about and there was no comfort for him. No love he could reach out and touch and call his own. Rosalie was astonishingly beautiful and there was no disregarding that_ something_ between them. Crackling energy and tension, heat and restraint; the perfect recipe for young love.

They denied it as soon as we suggested it. Typical teenagers, even then. Bound and determined to go against what was placed neatly before them. But caught between them was something they had not been able to ignore and very soon after Rosalie joined us, they became very much involved.

Again, as far as I knew, Carlisle remained in ignorance of it until it was brought directly to our attention, owing to carelessness on their part. I would have been content to allow them to continue for however long, until they felt confident enough to tell us themselves, but Carlisle was different and he harboured a protective love for Rosalie that outshone his patience and perhaps, common sense.

Officially, anything remotely romantic ended between Edward and Rosalie that very night. Officially, they were nothing more than resentful, awkward siblings from that point onwards.

But they were my children and I knew them better than even they could imagine. I kept my silence and hid my innermost thoughts, allowing them their much needed privacy, as Carlisle would not. One thing I understood about my children was that they harboured an intense need for privacy, even if it was mainly an illusion. I loved them and it was almost easy to pretend that nothing was happening between them.

Emmett was different. A third component into an already dysfunctional mechanism. I watched, quietly as ever, as Emmett fell in love with her and she was helpless to do anything but reciprocate. They made a beautiful couple; all fire, love and newness. Emmett was Rosalie's before he became my son, but he was part of the family nonetheless. Three children now; a triangle of involvement and I worked hard to remain seemingly oblivious. There were moments when I wanted to intervene; to point out that what they were doing was wrong, now that there was someone else involved. Only I never did. I could never bring myself to take Edward and Rosalie aside, tell them that what lay between them was _wrong_. My silence was my gift to them; no small part of which stemmed from cowardice, but over time developed into a loving understanding of the catastrophic scenario they were caught in.

As the family evolved, so did the affair. Two more children, though Jasper would never identify himself as anything but a man, joined us and I watched as my first two struggled to adapt. I watched with blank, unknowing eyes while they struggled to be apart, to break the bond between them in the name of good. And failed spectacularly. My heart twisted for them, and I said nothing. Focused on the house, the others and my husband.

By the time Bella came into our lives, I was more or less under the impression that it had died between them years ago. I later learned, through explosive jealousy and bitter feuding, that whatever it was...it remained there between both Rosalie and Edward. I felt for Rosalie, who had never been able to cope with jealousy, and could do little but bear witness to the violence of her emotions as they tore her apart.

But then it seemed to stabilize. Miraculously, Edward and Rosalie seemed to reach an even footing. An even footing being that they continued to snip and snap at one another, but no longer stormed and screamed. Edward fell in love with Bella and Rosalie turned further into Emmett. The universe seemed to be offering them a chance to right the wrongs of so many years before. It seemed that a kind of equilibrium had been achieved somehow.

Until this.

Even then, sitting besides a borderline catatonic Rosalie, I said nothing of how well I knew the situation. It would do absolutely no good whatsoever and I knew my daughter well enough to understand what she needed from me then. Which was what I had always given her, in one way or another; silence. The truth, the extent of my knowledge, would serve only to hurt her even more.

So we sat, side by side on her bed, waiting for news that everything was ready and that it was finally time to leave this house. I was prepared to spend that time in shared silence, only it was Rosalie who drew in the breath to speak.

"Mom," she said softly and that instinct reared up as always, whenever any one of my children said it like that. "Can I...? Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, darling," I said, watching her pale, blank face carefully for an indications of what might be coming. "What is it?"

"I won't – I don't think I can um..." she shook her head as though trying to remember something; the blankness seemed to have taken over to a greater degree than I'd anticipated. "If something happens to Edward," she managed eventually. "I think it's going to affect me too."

There were so many different responses to what might finally have been a confession of so many years worth of secrets; in the end, I went with a non-committal, "Hmmm?"

She didn't search my face for my lack of reaction, nor did she press the issue. She just blinked, slowly and said, "If for any reason I'm not...OK, can you uh...help Emmett for me?"

"Rose," I said, my own throat threatening to catch. "If you're talking about leaving or going somewhere because you think this is your fault..."

"No," she said with a single shake of her head. "No. It wouldn't be like that. But I might not have much of a choice in the matter, you know? I just...would you do that for me? Help him?"

"You know I would, darling, but there won't be any need for that. We'll get Edward back in time, you'll see. Everything will be alright."

"Not if he dies," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I wished I didn't understand so well the depth behind that, the implications of what Edward's death would mean for Rosalie. I said nothing, as always, only wrapping an arm around her, my beautiful daughter.

"He won't die," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I won't lose my eldest two. Could never lose you two, never."

There was a long beat of silence before she spoke next and this time, I could hear the ache in her throat. "I wish I was a better person," she said, so quietly that I wouldn't have heard it, had I not been inches away from her.

"You're a wonderful person, Rose. You struggle more than others, you've been through things other people only see in movies...but you've come out of it so well, honey. Do you have any idea how proud of you I am?"

There was a darkness in her eyes I had rarely seen; certainly not in this century. "I'm not a good person, Mom. I've never been good."

I drew away slightly, turning her to face me. "Now you listen to me, Rosalie, because I'm only going to say this once. There is nothing, _nothing_, you've done that makes you a bad person. You are wholly good, my darling. Though you don't like to believe it, you really are. I know that somewhere, deep down, you were trying to do what was best for Edward. I know that, despite whatever you say or what anyone else thinks. I know how much you care for him, sweetheart. You and Edward..." I paused, considering my words carefully. "You're everything that makes our family _a family_. Even when you're screaming at one another, you're the core of all this. You would die before you let him get hurt, and it's mutual. Nothing can corrupt that, not some ongoing argument or you moving away. Nothing can change that."

"Not time or love or obligation," she mumbled through numb lips and I wondered what that meant, why the words seemed to hold such significance. I didn't question it though, because somehow what I'd said seemed to get through to her. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes.

"Honey?" I prompted gently. "Are you alright?"

When she looked at me, there was something there; some amount of strength that had not been there before. She nodded and stood, composing herself; moving more than she had done in hours. "Yes. We should go."

And I, who was so used to quietly watching from a distance, fell backwards into routine and maintained my silence all the way to the nearest airfield, watching how tightly she held Emmett's hand.

* * *

**-Emmett-**

Though I had always loved flying, this flight would mark an exception in a long line of enjoyable trips overseas. It was definitely the most fancy thing I'd ever flown in, and by far the most expensive. Blue Star Jets had chartered the flight within less than three hours and it was a private jet, which was a bonus because really, who wanted to be surrounded by humans for so long, when we were that tense? The jet itself was beautiful and I felt that for $8'000 an hour, I should have been enjoying it more, when really, I'd never enjoyed flying less. The white leather seats were exquisitely comfortable, there was piped classical music flowing gently around us and a table up ahead bearing expensive champagne and crystal flutes. The pilots had given us strange looks for none of us looked quite like the millionaires our credit cards said we were.

I glanced out of the window at the dark world beneath, bathed in night. I couldn't make out any significant landmarks. Beneath us, ghostly wisps of grey cloud flew past in flashes of meagre light. We were travelling so fast and yet the feeling was mutual amongst us all; the feeling that we were going to be too late.

There had been no word for hours now and we were all feeling the impact of such silence. Esme and Carlisle had been talking almost non-stop to one another since sitting down in the comfortable, reclining seats. Low, muttered conversations meant only for the two of them and I was more than happy to give them their privacy, considering that Carlisle and I had almost come to blows earlier. They sat at the front of the plane, the furthest away. I knew, as we all did, that they were planning what would happen if Alice and Bella were too late.

Besides me sat Rosalie, staring ahead, her hand locked with mine. Her state of mind had improved a lot since we got on the jet, though it was still clear that she wasn't in a great place emotionally. She seemed to be more herself; brooding, furiously impatient and self loathing. Anything was better than the quiet shadow of herself she had been earlier. I myself was battling back the terror I was faced with, at the prospect of losing more than my brother. Better not to dwell on it while there was a chance it could be prevented.

"You thirsty, babe?" I enquired, mockingly, indicating to the champagne. She smiled, only a half smile really and shook her head slowly. I got the distinct impression that she was smiling because of some private joke. I wondered what I had said, what the champagne meant, and resigned myself to never knowing. My wife was nothing if not full of secrets. When she looked at me, it was with love. Love and warmth and the smallest measure of sadness.

"I love you," she said, quite plainly. "So much."

I squeezed her hand in mine and brought it to my lips. "I love you, Rosalie Hale."

"Don't even think about it," Jasper warned from behind us. "This is a very small jet and the bathroom is in no way big enough."

Another attempt to lighten the unbearable heavy atmosphere. Rosalie smiled instead of laughing and I turned around in the seat and made a rude, but affectionate hand gesture. It was almost funny, that comment; Rosalie and I hadn't been together physically for the longest time in the history of our relationship. Not since before we had gone to England and though I would _never_ push her for anything, it was taking a slight strain on our relationship which for all it's flaws had always been ridiculously healthy in the sex department. The idea that we wouldn't be able to control ourselves enough to wait until we were off the jet, was laughable.

After a few more minutes of silence, broken only by the whirring of engine components beneath and around us, Jasper's cell sprang to life and Rosalie's grip on my hand threatened to crack the steel strong bones.

Everyone froze, I felt it collectively. Rosalie could only stare ahead as Jasper answered with a frantic, "Alice?"

"Loudspeaker," Rosalie said in a voice I'd never heard before. I felt like I was going to be sick with nerves about what was coming next. I turned in my seat, kneeling on the leather to see Jasper holding the phone in one hand, staring at the screen as he put it on loudspeaker.

"It's me," came Alice's voice, fraught and rushed. "He's alive. We're all alive. Everyone's OK. We got there in time, big debate with the Volturi, can't go into details. I'm just getting Bella's things and then we're going straight to an airport. I can't leave them alone for too long, they're both pretty wrecked and of course Edward's all about Bella. Just pass it along, OK? I'll call as soon as I can."

One massive sigh of relief from everyone, except Rose, who still stared ahead as though she hadn't heard. Esme and Carlisle exchanged a rare, and somewhat unexpectedly passionate kiss that I pretended to ignore.

"Love you, Al," Jasper said and hung up, slouching back in the seat with a hand over his chest. "Jesus Christ," he gasped. "He's OK."

I myself was struggling not to burst into glorious song due to the relief rushing through my system, but Rosalie still hadn't reacted. "Honey?" I queried cautiously. "Did you hear that? He's alive. He's fine. See?"

Very, very slowly, she blinked. Then she turned to look at me with startlingly young eyes. "He's OK?" she whispered.

I nodded and stroked her cheek gently, trying to bring her back from whatever place of terrible anticipation she had been ever since Jasper's cell had rung.

"Yes, totally fine. In _so_ much trouble when I get him alone, but alive and well."

She released a shaky little breath and finally let go of my squashed hand. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, before it went to her eyes and stayed there. "He's alive."

"Very," I promised, pulling her into me without another word, into an embrace I hoped would erase the worst of what she had gone through these last few hours. "Everything's fine. See? Everything is OK, babe."

She clung to me hard for a few seconds before letting go and moving so that she was leaning her back against my chest, her legs up on the chair where her high heels threatened to tear and scratch the expensive leather; neither of us could care less abut something so trivial.

I glanced over to where our parents were still enthusiastically kissing and I made a loud clucking sound. "Ah-hem," I coughed, purposefully. "Hope you're willing to foot the therapy bill." Jasper chuckled, moving to the same row as us, sitting to our right.

"Like I said, flair for drama," he said, winking at Rosalie. I smiled and let out another breath, exhaling all the horrible thoughts and worries I'd been filled with, replacing them instead with the desperate hope that everything would be alright.

And it had to be, didn't it?

* * *

**-Edward-**

I had always considered myself to be more than what I was, deep down. The way I perceived myself and the way I really was...the two rarely matched. I'd always considered myself above selfishness; I was wrong. The scope of my selfishness had been blown wide over the last day and no matter where I turned, even towards my lovely, very much alive Bella, it was there, staring me in the face.

By some divine miracle, intervention of a benign deity perhaps, Bella Swan was fighting for consciousness, curled around me in the back seat of a car, driven by Alice. It was still something of a shock to me, that she was alive...that was I had been given a second chance, a chance to have and to keep her after all I had done. Yet there she was; exhausted, lovely and as fragile as ever. She seemed, if anything, even more breakable than when I had left her. Having her around the Volturi would have taken years off my life, had there been a finite number to begin with. It served only to make me appreciate even more so just how frail she really was. The dark circles under her eyes were not the marks of a few days of sleeplessness; they were evidence of many months worth of broken sleep. She had, if possible, lost weight as well. Her bones were brittle and extremely prominent beneath my painfully gentle touches. She was paler than before as well, as if the sunlight had become something she had avoided in those months we were apart.

What had I expected, really? That I would leave and she would be fine? Consume ice cream, watch overly romantic and entirely predictable movies and be somehow restored to her natural state of being?

I had been unforgivably selfish and it was a slap in the face just to look at her. She was like a flower, dying from lack of sunlight and I had done that to her.

The drive was mostly silent, though Alice was recounting each piece of her journey here, including her trip to Forks to ascertain Bella's mortality. A spike of something cold and unpleasant shot through me as she recalled Jacob Black and his place in Bella's life. Jealousy, again. A very small part of me resentfully questioned Bella's right to form a close bond with that animal; I ignored it almost completely, disgusted that I would even _think_ such a thing.

And then it was right there, the part I had been dreading even more than hearing about Jacob Black's audacious claims to Bella's affections.

The phone call.

I was interested, at first, to hear how it had come across from an exterior point of view. Shocked, almost, at the level of bitterness Alice still harboured towards her sister for apparently going out of her way to call and inform me of Bella's potential death. Even in the face of what would have undoubtedly been the end for us both, Rosalie had done her best to maintain the cover that represented our lives outside of one another. She had lied, taken the blame entirely and done so without a fight, apparently. She had also concealed the fact that we were together at the time that had all been occurring; something I was guiltily grateful for as it would have raised too many questions now that I had Bella back and was more or less alive.

It seemed like weeks ago I had slapped her around the face for trying to protect me; so much had happened and yet my hand stung, shamefully and I could clearly recall the echo of the impact. Something like bile rose in my throat and I swallow it down, shaking my head to physically rid myself of the gnawing darkness, something worse than guilt.

I closed my eyes and did something I had sworn I would never do again, during what I had thought would be my last hours on Earth. I lowered the walls in my mind, let them crumble and crash. The relief was instantaneous; a massive pressure suddenly gone and with it went a headache I didn't even realise I'd had. It had been no easy task, keeping her locked completely out over the last day as she had quite literally _thrown herself_ at my mind with everything she had. Even over the distance between us, the strength of her determination had been daunting; only with the utmost concentration and strength had I been able to keep her out, keep her from convincing me to return.

When I opened my eyes, I half expected to hear her in my mind, yet there was nothing. A gentle static, peace almost. I wondered, with an inappropriate amount of panic, if I had somehow severed the link between us permanently during my quest to end my own life.

But a few more seconds passed and I realised that the distance between us was simply too great to allow for any kind of communication. She was clearly no longer hurling herself at the barriers of my mind; Alice had doubtlessly informed everyone that I had survived. I could, however, feel that I was not alone as I had been before in Volterra. It was comforting in a way that it absolutely should not have been.

I was more than a little terrified about just _how_ comforting it was. I suddenly felt stronger, connected to the world again and filled with the knowledge that somehow, despite the horrible mess I had made, everything would be alright because she was still there; the one constant in an ever changing world. The base foundation of everything that mattered and existed.

Bella stirred and I forced myself back into the car, into the body of the Edward Cullen she loved and who loved her so much in return. The Edward who represented the bright, light filled side of the moon her eyes and heart were automatically drawn to. With effort, I pushed away that other Edward who did not belong to Bella Swan, who Bella Swan had no idea even existed except in flashes and shadows of a nonverbal idioglossia between the him and the woman he was forced to call sister.

Her smile was weak and filled with uncertainty; I wanted to wash it all away, explain how I knew I could never leave her now. But it wasn't the time. She would probably think she was dreaming at this point, anyway. I pressed another kiss to her hair, delighting and despairing at the rush of her scent.

The airport wasn't far; soon we would be back in Forks. Everyone would be back together for the first time since we had left. Alice had already made her decision not to leave again; she missed Jasper too much.

'_I need to call them again and explain in better detail,'_ she thought, glancing at me in the rear-view. For some reason, I wished I could postpone it; have this suspended reality just a little longer before the full weight of my actions came crashing down upon me in ways I would struggle to conceal from Bella.

I nodded, giving my consent even though she was already dialling. I swept my hand through Bella's hair and she sighed with childlike contentment. I allowed myself a half smile, still awed and mystified that I was allowed to have her.

The price for which, I did not doubt, would be high and in demand the moment the plane touched down in Washington.

'_Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot. Prete-moi ta plume, pour écrire un mot. Ma chandelle est morte, je n'ai plus de feu. Ouvre-moi ta porte, pour l'amour de Dieu.'_

I could almost feel my lips moving alone to the words as they ran through my head over and over; not my lullaby, not Bella's and yet it was stuck quite ruthlessly in my mind. The same French lullaby Rosalie used to recite when she was trying to distract me from her thoughts. Amusing, in a deeply unfunny sort of way, how Bella's lullaby and Rosalie's almost shared the same name and yet were completely different. One unnerving little similarity that I didn't dwell upon as I gathered myself and fastened the exterior facade with a strength that had not been there twenty four hours ago.

The airport was busy as such places always were. Bella could barely walk and it was no surprise; she had flat out refused to sleep on the extremely long flight back. I knew that she was afraid of closing her eyes and awaking to a world without me again. It made me ashamed once again; staggered by my own selfishness and the effect it had wrought upon those I loved most.

I was nervous like I hadn't been in years. It was a strange sensation after so many years of being ridiculously comfortable of my place within our family, to be so suddenly unsure of myself. The inevitable future and my reunion with them was looming, but I wanted to postpone it, childishly. I would just throw myself into Bella; she required all of my attention and I would gladly give it, place her above everything and everyone else, most notably myself. Yes, I could get through it with that in mind.

Not using her as a shield at all.

The static in my mind was morphing into a presence. What I felt could loosely be described as warmth and light very slowly unfurling and growing. The golden thread, regaining strength once again. I felt it become self aware and it was such a strange sensation that I almost lost my hold on Bella, who would have dropped like I fly had I not been holding her upright.

She was _there_ again; if she had ever been away.

The thread was fully active once more and I waited for the verbal, if not vocal, communication to commence. When it didn't, I considered the possibility that maybe she was feeling as uncertain and afraid as I was. For the first time since encountering one another, there was a definite undertone of ambiguity underlying the connection. That was something new; I had never doubted the way I felt when it came to her. I _knew_ I hated her when we first met. I _knew_ I resented her when she became one of us. I _knew _when I fell in love with her. I _knew_ when she became part of me and I was helpless to become part of her.

It was a mark of the damage done, perhaps.

By the time they all came into view, I was about ready to make a U-turn and locate another plane going somewhere far, far away. But the bundle of love and obligation, warm beside me, reminded me that this wasn't about what was best for me, so I continued forward.

Jasper, Carlisle and Esme first. My parents made a beeline for Bella, eager to express their gratitude. Mom was more furious and relieved than she would exhibit in front of Bella and I knew I was in some serious trouble the moment she got me alone, but for the time being, she seemed content not to traumatise the poor human any more than she already was. Carlisle was filled with undiluted relief which was simple and easier to cope with, though he too would be having words with me when I was without Bella. Jasper and Alice were deeply involved in a 'Moment' together as we made our way outside to where I _knew_ she was.

It was too many levels of wrong that she was so prevalent in my mind and soul when the girl I loved and had almost got killed, was leaning into me to help her walk.

I froze upon first seeing her and recovered so quickly that to Bella, it would have felt nothing more than a moment of tension. I was suddenly unsure I could do this, no matter the level of obligation I was faced with.

She looked different than when I had last seen her, which felt longer than two days. Hair swept back and to the side, all black clothes and no rings in sight. She was looking at me with an almost perfect neutrality except that I knew her face too well and it was suddenly obvious, without having to consult the gossamer link, that she too found herself in unfamiliar territory with regards to coping with the situation. A strange non-reaction passed between us both; an awkward, graceless moment of uncertainty, like two teenagers leaning in to kiss, neither having done so before.

Emmett was close by, smiling at me. Just like Carlisle and Esme, he too would be expressing his displeasure at my choice of actions when we could be alone later, but there was so much love and relief there in his eyes I couldn't bring myself to seriously worry about it.

Eyes moving back to Rosalie, obeying the automatic gravitational impulse in doing so, I knew I had slowed down enough to drawn attention. Esme was besides me, worrying about how this would affect us and for one dizzying moment, I almost thought she meant us as in, 'Us'. But no, she meant 'us' as in, brother and sister. Family, of course.

"Don't," she begged softly. "She feels terrible."

"She should." I wondered, vaguely shocked, who had said something so cruel and unnecessary, especially when she looked so wretched and unhappy...even though she hadn't done anything try to protect me. And then I realised I had said it; cold, detached and unforgiving. How easily the old masks slipped back into place.

It was Bella, amazingly, who defended her.

"It's not her fault," she slurred, eyes blinking very slowly. She seemed almost drunk with fatigue and the shame hit me hard again, forced to look and _see_ the consequences of my choices once more. She was a delicate human, a human who required actual sleep to survive. I was certain then that I would be the death of her, one way or the other and the self loathing within me was formidable.

Esme looked to me, pleading with heart and soul and it took me a moment to realise that she was begging for me _forgive_ Rosalie. As if Rosalie had done something wrong, committed some injustice unto me and required absolution. The exterior world and its expectations bore heavily upon me as I struggled to keep up with it. The revulsion I felt for myself rose to a dangerous level that I wouldn't be able to control.

'_Don't worry,'_ a calm, wry voice told me. _'It'll just help your case; make it look like you're glaring at her, like you're angry. Yet another way to secure yourself in the daylight world at the expense of Rosalie. Bravo.'_

It had been only a day or so since that voice had risen it's head to snarl at me, demand that I stop what I was doing actually _think_ about the path I was headed down. Now it was quietly disgusted with me that I would seriously go along with this charade and allow Rosalie to take the blame for the entire incident.

"Let her make amends," our Mom begged. "We'll ride with Alice and Jasper."

Jasper's mind shouted out to mine, _'Find the time to talk with me later or I swear to God there will be consequences of cataclysmic proportions.'_ Of that, I had no doubt.

And again, it was Bella pleading with me to give Rosalie a chance. The world threatened to tilt of it's axis once more but I pulled myself together, barely, and we climbed into the beautiful car, Emmett sliding into the driver's seat while his wife rode shotgun,

Bella moved so she was lying against me, fatigue rippling off her in every way possible and I was considering humming her lullaby when Rosalie's voice rang through my mind, as clearly as if I had thought it myself.

'_I haven't told them you were with me at the time, they think I called you and told you. You have to play along, understand?'_

It wasn't what I expected and I couldn't respond to it because the fact that she was _still_ covering for me, trying to make my double life easier...it broke me a little.

"Edward," she prompted verbally.

"I know," I replied, unable to even contemplate the level of articulation required for me to say what I wanted to say to her. It sounded harsh to my own ears and I marvelled once more at the ease with which I could slip back into old habits.

I saw and felt what she was about to say next and though I desperately wanted to stop it, I knew I couldn't because she was going to say it aloud, make a point to me that I wasn't ready to see.

"Bella?" It was gentle, almost caring; I had never heard Rosalie to speak to a human like that in all the years I'd known her.

Bella, for her part, seemed stunned that Rosalie had said her name; Her weak eyelids fluttered open and she struggled to stay awake even harder. I watched with a baited breath as the interaction unfolded.

"Yes, Rosalie?"

"I'm so very sorry, Bella," she said, eyes holding steady on my beautiful human as she spoke. Emmett shot me a look in the rear-view expressing his surprise. "I feel wretched about every part of this, and so grateful that you were brave enough to go save my brother," there the word tripped and faltered in her mind. "after what I did. Please say you'll forgive me."

I felt my mouth open ever so slightly, but Rosalie was staring only at Bella, who seemed helpless to reply, "Of course, Rosalie. It's not your fault at all. I'm the one who jumped off the damn cliff. Of course I forgive you."

And the simplicity and absolute stupidity of it – that _Bella_ was the one forgiving Rose, when I could still hear Alice's reservations and even Carlisle's – it was staggering. Somehow, Bella's simple observation of the accidental truth made me want to cry and scream what had really happened and be done with the whole thing.

'_You can't do that,'_ she warned me and I frantically searched the surfaces of her mind for any indication of just how furious and sickened with me she was. When I found nothing, only mild sadness and unspeakable relief, I began to seriously worry that I was not the only one to be broken by this incident.

"It doesn't count until she conscious, Rose," came Emmett's voice, laughing. He caught my eyes in the rear-view again and thought, _'I wanted to come help, believe me. We both did, but Dad was adamant that we had to let Bella do her thing instead.'_

I managed a tiny, temporary smile at him by way of reply; an interaction not missed by Rosalie, who's gaze flickered oh so briefly over me before back to my human.

"I'm conscious," Bella argued a little, but it was reasonably pathetic as her eyes rolled while she said it. She would be fully asleep soon. Rosalie turned back around, facing the road unfolding before us. My attention span was screaming at me to decide which way to focus as I was too wrung out to even contemplate giving sufficient attention to them_ both. _

The decision was made, though it turned my stomach, unconsciously. Bella slipping into sleep, gently and helplessly, twisted my heart in such a way that I withdrew from that golden warm place in my mind, echoing with the sounds of _her_. I stayed with Bella, pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling her closer to me.

She just needed some sleep and she'd be fine, yes that was all she needed. Let her sleep, let her heal and rest a while so I could get away long enough to give Rosalie some semblance of the apology she deserved and if she wanted to kill me that would be fine too; I would stand and let her do whatever she wanted to me and whatever it was could never be enough.

"Let her sleep," I breathed, again without the express permission of my frontal lobe. I shook myself and tried to stay in control of myself, hoping I could achieve this at least until Bella was safe and sound in bed.

* * *

The first discussion was entirely expected and it played out in such a way that I could have written the scene myself. Carlisle and Esme had made it evidently clear to me that if I ever put them through anything like that again, Bella or no Bella, they would be more than disappointed; they would be completely crushed. I was their son, they loved me, I was their responsibility no matter what I thought. There were some raised voices from Esme which was a little shocking, but Carlisle's quiet whispers about what he would have felt if I had died...that was worse than him screaming and disowning me. My already heavy heart was eager to receive some comfort when they had said their piece; I accepted hugs and kisses and shaky attempts at humour with gratitude. There would be more conversations to come, mainly about Bella, but for now the Italy Incident was more or less covered.

I was expecting to be confronted by Jasper next, with or without Alice. His mind, what little I had gleaned, was furious with me for what I had done, or tried to do, but even worse was that he had no real idea what had happened. Jasper hated being the last to know something and I knew I would have to explain the situation in full. Nothing but the fullest explanation would satisfy him and I had resigned myself to giving it to him.

Instead, I caught the outer edges of a conversation I was certain I shouldn't be hearing, because it sounded like an argument and it was between my brother and Rosalie. They were obviously trying to be quiet and it was only because my ears were trained to detect her voice that I even caught it. I could easily have slid into the slipstream of her thoughts – probably seen it through her eyes but I didn't feel comfortable doing that in the slightest. There was an air of uncertainty making me tread carefully in that region.

Their hushed voices were more distinguishable now.

"I didn't mean it to come out like that," Rosalie was saying. "I honestly didn't, but you can't put this me on me at such a time."

Emmett made a disbelieving sound, a kind of indignant splutter.

"Put what on you? Look, I get that this has been upsetting _for all of us _but it's done now. It's over, he's fine, everything is _fine_ so I can't see what the problem is!"

"There is no problem, you just can't expect me to..."

There was a strained silence and when Emmett spoke again, there was hurt buried deep in the words. "Expect you to respond when your husband kisses you? No, I can see why I'm reaching for the stars there."

She sighed. "I'm tired, that's all."

"We're immortal, Rose. We don't _get_ tired!"

"Well I do!" she snapped. "So back off!"

"Oh, whatever. I am not doing this with you now. We have to go out there and deal with more than our issues right now. Are you going to be able to do that? Stand by me for that?"

"_Of course_." She sounded a little furious at that. "I'm not the one making a big deal out of something so miniscule!"

"Yeah, 'cause not wanting to be physically close to the man you love, that's not a big deal!" he hissed. "I'm gonna take a shower and when I get out, hopefully you'll be out of this Goddamned mood."

"Make sure it's a cold shower!" she obviously couldn't resist adding before he left.

I scrambled to gain distance so that when he came out of the conservatory, he wouldn't see me standing there listening to what was obviously a deeply private argument between him and his wife. I made it about twelve feet up the stairs when he burst out of the double doors, muttering and cursing under his breath. He caught sight of me and grimaced good naturedly.

"Sorry, man," he said quietly, changing direction and coming towards me. "Did you...did you hear that?"

"I heard raised voices and thought I'd better head for minimum safe distance," I lied effortlessly with a half smile. "Are you alright?"

He seemed distracted when I asked. "Huh? Me? Yeah, I'm fine of course. It's you – how are you?"

I took a few steps down, leaning and sat down on a step seven from the bottom.

"I'm a moron," I said with a rueful smile. "Complete and utter."

He shrugged and came to join me on the step, shoulder bumping mine as he sat.

"Can't disagree with you there," he said. "Really gonna get a name for yourself if you don't quit all this attention seeking suicidal bullshit."

I laughed despite myself. "Well no-one reads my Cry For Help Poems."

"You could act out in other ways," he suggested. "Date someone the family really doesn't approve of. Oh no, wait."

"They like her fine," I tried, with no real effort.

"She's a difference species."

"She saved my life."

"From your own attention seeking antics, which I'm pretty sure she triggered herself actually."

"Not her fault," I said, a little more seriously.

He paused and I saw it coming before he said it.

"You can't blame Rose," he said very quietly.

"I don't."

"Good. Because I know she only had your best intentions at heart, man. Whatever it may have come across as, she did it meaning you well."

There was a mutual silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

"She's been different, you know. For a while now."

I winced inwardly, knowing he wanted to talk to me about what I'd overheard. It wasn't exactly a conversation I was looking forward to having, but I couldn't deny him help, never had been able to, never would.

"Like how?" I asked.

He paused, tilting his head. "Is she nearby?"

"She's in the yard, talking to Carlisle," I answered. "You're all clear."

"It's just that ever since this whole thing with you and Bella, and I mean you no offence here man, but she's been different. It's been difficult, y'know? Being there for her, watching her go through something I totally admit I don't understand." Then, in a much quieter, younger voice, he added. "She's been distant. Physically."

_So_ not what I wanted to talk about.

"Oh. Well, I guess every couple goes through a rough patch every now and then," I offered weakly.

He snorted. "It's never been like this. Rough patches for us means screaming and shouting, breaking things. Never this kind of distance. Not for this long."

Guilt struck me then because I realised I hadn't noticed. Hadn't seen what my brother had been going through, alone. But now I was aware of it, I could see what he was saying was true. The effort he'd been making with her over the last few months was highly out of character. The special dinner on their anniversary, the day of the Bathtub Incident. The bed in particular seemed to hold large significance to what he was saying now.

"So...nothing? For how long?" I asked with effort.

He shrugged. "The last time was that weekend, you remember? Before we went to the theatre and saw that weirdo psychic."

"Christ," I exclaimed, unable to stop myself. "That's...uh...a while."

"It's not like I'm angry or anything," he said, sounding genuinely desolate. "I don't want to pressure her, would never do that. Sometimes she...I get the feeling that sometimes she just doesn't want to be touched and that's fine. It's so rare anyway that it never felt like anything serious. You know Rose, sometimes she has to be alone for a while. Like when you used to take her back to Rochester. I always had so much respect for you, doing that for her. I don't think I could do it, even now. But like I said, I get that sometimes she needs space and it's never been a problem."

"Until now," I filled in, throat tight.

"It's been so long," he said, letting his head drop in his hands. "I can't help but feel like I'm losing her."

More consequences of my extreme selfishness. It seemed everywhere I turned, there was new evidence of the damage I had done during my time of weakness. I frantically scrabbled for damage control.

"Never going to happen," I swore faithfully. "She loves you more than she knows how to express."

He fixed his eyes on the floor, polished and beautiful. "I know she loves me," he said after a minute. "I know that. But I feel like she's starting to see me as more of a brother than a lover."

"Hey, do you realise how ridiculous you sound? You and Rosalie _invented_ the concept of passion!"

"Not lately," he said. "Lately it's like I'm something else, someone she loves and trusts but can't bring herself to..."

He trailed off, obviously unable to finish but I could hear what he was going to say anyway and it carved deeper lines in my heart; knives born of red hot guilt.

"I'm sorry for putting you through this," I told him quietly, staring at the same spot on the floor as he was. "It's all my fault."

He chuckled. "I'll go along with that." Then he shook himself and took a deep breath. "No, look. I'm not blaming you. It's not blame or resentment, but sometimes I feel like – this is going to sound so dumb – but I feel like she's the moon. She's the moon and I'm on one side of her, the side of her that's bright and lit up with the sun. But there's this other side of her and it's dark and cold and full of secrets. I can never have both sides; don't matter how much I try and stretch myself, I'm only ever gonna get one side of her at a time and I guess that frustrates me is all."

His analogy held more accuracy than I could ever admit aloud.

"You're right," I said. "That does sound dumb. Rosalie isn't the moon; she's a _woman_. Women are unpredictable, capricious and way beyond our puny comprehension. You think I don't feel that about Bella? She's impossible to figure out."

He gave me a hopeful sideways glance. "Really?"

"Yes," I told him firmly. "So you've hit a rough patch or a dry spell or whatever the highly lacking terminology is. Big deal. Our lives aren't exactly normal as it is, you can't go applying normal scenarios and rules to them. There's no roadmap for the perfect vampire marriage. No guidelines. So long as you love each other, the rest will fall where it's meant to with time. And let's face it, if there's anything we've got in spades, it's time right?"

It was the best I could do with such short notice, but I could tell it was enough to reassure him, if only temporarily. He seemed more relaxed and that tight, tangled ball of worries in his mind loosened.

"You're right," he sighed, looking vaguely defeated. "I'm just being insensitive."

"No, you're just frustrated. She'll come around, she always does."

"So," he said after another minute. "How's _your_ weekend been?"

I smiled and shook my head, nudging his shoulder. "Splendid. I got to see some lovely areas of Italy, had tea and crumpets with the Volturi and caught some rays. All in all, a great little getaway."

"You should get back to her," he told me. "You're the first thing she'll want to see when she wakes up."

"I know. I just had to check everyone was alright first."

"Are _you_ alright?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine. Believe me the next time I feel like doing something so monumentally stupid, I'll look back on this."

"Jasper calls it your, _'flair for drama'_" he teased.

"Where is he anyway? I know he wants to give me my life story at some point before I go back," I asked, casting my senses round for any trace of him. "Ah." He was with Rosalie. Shock.

"With Rose?" Emmett skilfully guessed.

"Indeed."

He winced. "That can't be good, man. If those two are cooking something up, it's probably going involve your head on a stick."

"No more than I deserve," I muttered.

THWACK!

"Hey! I am not entirely sure I deserved _that_!" I grumbled, putting my hand to where he had just smacked me.

"You're a first class moron," he told me. "You really are."

"I'm only pointing out..."

"How much you deserve punishment, ninth level of hell and blah, blah, blah! It's getting really annoying, y'know? So you screwed up, move on and man up! Don't mope and whine like some Shakespearean reject! It sets off a domino effect of gloom and doom and that is not what anyone needs right now."

"I suppose."

"Good. Now scram back to your little human and don't come back until you're in a better mood!"

Rising, I said, "You can't boss _me_ around. I'm not your wife."

With a smug look, he replied, "Only because I'm way outta your league. Now _get_!"

* * *

**-Jasper-**

It was almost as though we had never been away. To look around at the immaculate, pristine kitchen was to remember every single conversation that had taken place since we had first moved in. The first time Bella had ever come to see us, the first of many, it had taken place in the kitchen. It was where we would rendezvous before heading off to school, where Rosalie and Edward would try to dismember one another with nothing but looks and comments. It had been empty for months, but there was almost no trace of dust. Esme had been busy making the house a home once more as was her talent.

Once again, the kitchen was the place we gathered to talk. I found myself on the outskirts of the conversations once again, and this time I was pleased to be reasonably invisible during such an event. The family, minus Edward, were very much involved in a discussion about Bella and the inevitable question of her mortality. It had been staring us all headlong in the face since Alice had told us the entire story of everything that had happened since they'd been away. It had to be done like this at first, without Edward there to take offence on Bella's behalf.

"It's more or less a done deal at this stage," Esme said, running the hot and cold taps a few times to check the hot water was running. "Surely the best thing to do is accept it."

Carlisle knuckled at his eyes. "There is a sense of force behind this that I can't swallow without question. Bella is a healthy young girl with her whole life in front of her. I cannot justify taking it for the sake of young love."

"It's more than that," Alice reminded him. "She's everything to him now."

"I'm well aware of his sentiments towards her," Carlisle said. "And I still cannot condone turning her simply to have her fit in a little better with the in-laws."

"Isn't her life in danger though?" Emmet asked, leaning against the counter, a few feet from where Rosalie stood, relatively motionless. So far, she had been silent but I could feel some level of decisiveness brewing within and knew she had an opinion to put forth sooner or later. "The Volturi and all that?"

"We could protect her," Carlisle told us. "I am certain that we could keep her safe."

"What kind of life is that for her?" Esme asked. "Hidden away, forbidden from any kind of normal life?"

"Compared to becoming one of us? Look, there's not going to be a 'normal' for Bella either way after this. She's altered the course of her own future by placing herself in the spotlight to such an extent. It would be nothing short of a miracle for her to have a happy normal life without sacrificing _something_ along the way. It doesn't have to be her mortality."

I felt Rosalie's decision to speak before it happened, and was watching her when she spoke; saw the carefully arranged shields in place, the concentrated facade of neutrality.

"You're missing the point," she said softly as everyone else turned to look at her.

"Which is?" Alice asked after a beat of silence.

"Where have you been for the last few months? Edward tried to kill himself because he thought she was dead. And it's not the first time either, for much less." She paused, steeling herself. "He won't live without her. Whether it's the immediate future or the next sixty years, he's made it clear that without her, he has no reason to live."

"That's not strictly true," Carlisle said, frowning. "I know he overreacted, but..."

"But what? He needed time? Therapy? No. Without her, he doesn't want to live. It's nothing but logic, nothing but reasonable sense to make her one of us for his sake. To keep him with us. To keep him alive."

Esme was fiercely proud of her daughter then; she smiled at her, love brimming beyond what she could contain. I tried to tune it out, wishing to focus on the driving reasons behind Rosalie's plea for Bella's immortality.

She had told me as much as she could of what had really happened between them that day; I still did not know everything, that much was clear but there seemed to be a limit to what she could reveal to me without breaking down. Everything made a sick kind of sense, knowing that she had tried to hide the news of Bella's 'death' from him. Typical of them, really. They were nothing if not drowning in dramatic irony.

Carlisle let out a frustrated sigh. "I see your reasoning, Rose, I really do. I can even an imperative in your logic, only it is not Bella's life, is it? You are begging to save Edward's life, not hers. Her life is not the one in jeopardy here, is it? But it must be her life in payment of the solution. It is a gross imbalance I can hardly stomach."

He sounded very British then; lost in his own train of thought and feeling, which was ran deep and ancient. I sensed he was thinking back to those days when he had first turned Edward. The incidents did not compare; he was right. There was no imperative for Bella's life, only for Edward's.

"And?" Rosalie pressed. "Alice said it's something she wants, am I right?"

Alice nodded. "She wants it very much."

"Then I do not see the issue. She's gaining far more than she's losing."

Carlisle shook his head. "You are betraying your own sense of beliefs, Rosalie. You yourself frequently curse this existence, do you not?"

Defiance radiating from her, she replied, "It is the price we pay. Humans curse their own lives as well before they must suffer their own demise. Whatever we may say about this life, it _is_ ultimately an evolutionary step up from the farmyard existence of humans."

"And you want this for Bella? You would have her with us for all eternity? You can tolerate her now?" Carlisle demanded.

Her eyes hardened, as did her resolve. "Anything is tolerable above losing a member of this family. There was a time I thought I would never find myself above despising Edward, now I cannot imagine life without him. Would you be willing to watch him go to the Volturi, years from now, and allow himself to be torn apart simply because you were morally unshakeable? You love him too much, Carlisle. You will give in, as we all would to ensure Edward's safety and continued existence."

It was rather impressive actually; an impromptu speech come out of nowhere that took us all by surprise. Emmett's emotions were strangely conflicted; an undertone of discomfort thrumming through him. Rosalie was being extremely forthright about her reasons for wanting Bella to become one of us and it made me nervous, after what she had told me earlier. I wondered at Emmett's distance from her and felt uneasy myself.

Carlisle seemed grudgingly impressed. "I confess I never supposed you to be in favour of turning her," he said. "But I can see your reasoning. Thank you."

"This is moot anyway," Alice said. "There is no-one who will be so against the idea of turning Bella, as Edward. He will fight her every step of the way and anyone who helps her will be betraying him in his eyes."

Esme let out a chuckle. "It takes very little to betray Edward these days."

"I don't see why he'll be so against it," Emmett said, uncrossing his arms, eyes flickering back and forth between Rosalie and Carlisle. "He wants to keep her safe, right? He's in love with her, isn't he?"

"He's in love with Bella the human," Carlisle pointed out. "Though he'll die before admitting it, there's a part of him that loves her simply _because_ she's human. Some part of him that craves her humanity, her frailty. It is an unfortunate complex, but a prevalent one nevertheless. He will claim concern for her soul, but it's a many layered complication that even he cannot comprehend with any level of clarity."

"You mean he'd love her less if she was a vampire?" Emmet translated.

"Not in a conscious way. I could be wrong, but I believe his infatuation with her has deep origins in her humanity. He will be reluctant to part with that."

"It's not ultimately his decision," Alice pointed out. "It's Bella's."

"He'll fight her on it," Rosalie said. "Try to coerce her to stay human for as long as possible."

"We don't know that," Esme said. "He might be seeing things differently after her brush with death. He might _want_ to make her one of us."

But Rosalie, who knew him better than he knew himself, shook her head. "No, it'll go against the grain of who he is. He will fight her on it every step of the way."

Emmett was watching Rosalie the entire time, very carefully.

"If he really loves her, he'll stop fighting won't he? He'll give in and give her what she wants?" he asked, speaking only to Rosalie.

"Or he'll maintain his integrity and stand by his beliefs," she retaliated as the air grew somewhat cold.

"At the cost of keeping her at a distance because of his distorted need to protect her from something she might be capable of dealing with?"

Rosalie smiled wryly at the air in front of her. "Yes, because she would _know_, wouldn't she? All her experience with such things really makes her objective?"

"I'm sorry," Alice interrupted. "Aren't you in favour of Bella becoming one of us, Rose?"

"I am," she stated. "I'm simply pointing out that Edward's reservations are not baseless. There are myriad reasons why this is a bad idea, but ultimately his life is more important to me than hers. Let her become one of us if it keeps him stable and alive."

Emmett snorted, uncharacteristically discourteous. "How selfless of you."

"Enough," Carlisle warned. "Let's keep this neutral, shall we? I'm sure you two can work out your own issues later. The issue at hand concerns Bella and Edward."

"Then it concerns us all," Emmett pointed out. "Edward is family."

Typical simplicity from Emmett's side of the argument. How I wished it _were_ that simple.

"Jasper," Esme said, and I jumped remembering that I was in the room. "What do you think?"

Everyone turned to look at me as though I was the deciding factor in a deeply biased decision. Reluctantly, I cleared my throat to speak.

"Rosalie's right," I said finally and both Emmett and Alice rolled their eyes simultaneously. "Whatever we might feel about Bella is irrelevant. It's Edward that matters. Keeping her alive is the only way to keep him motivated to _be_ alive. Not to mention the trauma we'll all go through for the next few decades if she's alive; the girl is a living breathing danger magnet and we all know how protective he is of her. Making her indestructible is the only way to assure some peace of mind."

It felt like a betrayal; I knew how hard this was for Rosalie, how much it would affect her having Bella as a sister, for all time. But there wouldn't _be_ a Rosalie without Edward and there clearly wasn't going to be an Edward without Bella. An obscene little triangle. No fourth side for Emmett who was obviously starting to feel more than a bit left out.

Esme nodded as though that settled things. "Edward won't want to turn her," she said, biting her bottom lip. "How can we get around that?"

Emmett pushed away from the counter brusquely. "Have Rosalie agree with him. That'll make him reconsider it in a second."

Rosalie shot him a look that was almost unreadable, save for the emotions I could detect. Aching sadness, guilt, hurt.

There was a moment of consideration for his suggested insult. Carlisle shrugged. "That could work."

"How?" Alice asked.

"Edward and Rosalie are at polar opposites of the universe with regards to opinions," Esme said. "If Rosalie doesn't want Bella in the family, it might make Edward consider it, just to go against her."

"That won't work," I said at once. "He'll read her mind, see through it."

"It's worth a try," Carlisle suggested. "He'll be too distracted anyway."

"I can block him reasonably well," Rosalie lied. "It won't take much to make him believe I don't want her in the family."

More blame at her feet for something that wasn't true. Rosalie's selflessness left me a little breathless sometimes, even if it wasn't _quite_ selflessness.

"But that will upset Bella," Alice worried and I felt a stab of impatience for my lover, wishing she would just _once_ see what her sister was trying to do for everyone.

Rosalie sighed. "I'll phrase it nicely then. Does everyone agree this is the way to approach it when they arrive?" Silently, everyone nodded. "How long now Alice?"

"A few minutes. They're driving, he's really not looking forward to it."

"Right then. So we are in agreement. Bella must become one of us, sooner or later, to protect Edward." Rosalie didn't wait for a consensus this time around, simply nodded to herself and left the room without looking back. I felt that she needed a few moments to compose herself and when Emmett didn't follow her, I was a little relieved. The tension would have to be well concealed from both Bella and Edward to make the deciding votes seem more natural, as if it wasn't premeditated.

Once Rosalie was gone, Emmett scowled and shook his head. His frustration was starting to eat away at my patience. I supposed I'd have to speak to him about it later.

It was a few minutes later when Edward and Bella arrived, supposedly impromptu and full of tension. Edward, I sensed before he even made it through the front door, was seriously panicking. About what I couldn't quite discern, but there was genuine panic lacing all his emotions, none of which were calm.

Carlisle glanced around at us one by one. "I'll go greet them," he suggested.

He left us in an uncomfortable silence, broken only by Emmett. "I guess we'll have to get used to this," he said after a few seconds. "Them being here, her showing up whenever."

"She's done that before, we all got used to it," Esme scolded lightly.

"It's going to increase though," I pointed out not with much enthusiasm. "Obviously."

We heard Carlisle leading Bella and Edward into the dining room, quietly. Edward's sense of fear was climbing higher and higher; he was dreading this.

"Come on," Esme said and lead the way. Rosalie joined us before we reached the door, wordlessly falling into line as we entered. Her acting skills as flawless as ever, but I was still shocked to see Rose give Bella a small, shaky smile; even more shocked at Edward's reaction. His panic shot through the roof, evolved into something akin to terror. One of his worst fears, which I had long suspected; the colliding of his two worlds. His efforts to keep Bella human, and thus separate from everyone else including Rosalie, were coloured with a new understanding.

"The floor," Carlisle told Bella. "Is yours."

She was nervous; painfully so. Her throat was dry and sticky as she swallowed; the sounds of it seemed to echo in a way that made my teeth itch.

"Well, I'm hoping Alice has told you everything that happened in Volterra?" she began, trying for all her might not to sound timid. Edward's nerves were frayed; he was struggling to contain his ragged apprehension and I noted grimly that I was not the _only_ person to feel that. Rosalie reacted to it; a strange little communication that was too intimate for me to clearly interpret but the gist of it was that she was profoundly concerned for him. I could feel it.

"Everything," Alice confirmed, helpfully.

"And on the way?" Bella pressed, fingers tapping absentmindedly on the table; a drumming sound, cavernous to our ears.

"That, too."

"Good, then we're all on the same page."

I tilted my head, bemused. She seemed _relieved_ that we were all up to speed about everything that happened. Strange little human. She then went onto explain, highly unnecessarily, about her reasons for wanting to become one of us. The Volturi and their _'check-up'_, the danger she had put us all in. The speech ended with a question.

"...I want you to vote yes or no on the issue of me becoming a vampire."

I flinched at the spike of terror that jolted through Edward, such was it's potency.

"Just a minute," he snapped. Rosalie's mouth thinned; she was doing that _thing_, trying to soothe him, like you would a traumatised child; he didn't seem to be reacting to it much. "I have something to add before we vote. About the danger Bella's referring to. I don't think we need to be overly anxious."

And Edward then went about explaining his reasons why Bella wasn't _really_ in that much danger, about the Volturi's overconfidence, their lacking ability to find Bella. After a few minutes of listening, I found myself suddenly bored; surely this couldn't be the entirety of my night, stuck listening to _this_. We'd had this conversation already, had been having it for most of the night.

"But they can find _you_," Bella pointed out to him.

Emmett and Edward seemed to be very much of the same mind as Edward replied, "And I can take care of myself."

"Excellent plan, my brother," Emmett chimed in as he and Edward knocked fists; Emmett's desire for violence and action was unsurprising given the amount of frustration he felt with his current life.

Rosalie's annoyance shot up, taking me by surprise. "No."

"Absolutely not," Bella agreed. Odd, watching Rosalie and Bella agree about _anything_.

I couldn't help but admire Edward's determination to avoid having to turn his beloved human. "Nice."

"Idiots," Alice muttered while Esme barely managed to stop herself from grounding Edward until the turn of the next century for even suggesting putting himself in danger. Her anger was maternal and instinctual; I did not wish to be present for the fallout of _that_ confrontation later on.

Bella managed to swing it back around to the question of her immortality. "Alright then. Edward has offered an alternative for you to consider. Let's vote."

The air grew tense; it was as though the debate in the kitchen had suddenly and unstoppably materialised into a tangible thing. It was happening; it was going to happen.

That strange little communication thing was happening again; it was horribly distracting. Edward and Rosalie were speaking rapid fire to one another; an intense conversation, not that I could make out a word of it. Edward seemed to be...begging. Desperation and panic tainted his aura while Rosalie seemed more torn than anything else. Incredible, how calm and flawless they appeared on the outside.

"Do you want me to join your family?" Bella asked Edward outright.

He steeled himself, almost angry at her for directing the question like that. "Not that way. You're staying human."

"Alice?" Bella asked.

"Yes," she replied.

Those soft, human eyes found me. "Jasper?"

"Yes," I said, not entirely happy about it.

"Rosalie?"

As expected and discussed, she replied, "No."

I felt the exchange between Rose and Edward; he was angry, betrayed. I guessed that he knew Rosalie had been the one to beg for Bella's immortality, despite her outward decision. There would never be any understanding them.

"Let me explain," Rosalie asked gently, while Edward did his best not to rage aloud. "I don't mean that I have any aversion to you as a sister. It's just that...this is not the life I would have chosen for myself. I wish there had been someone to vote no for me."

It hurt me to sense how much of that was actually true, for very different reasons.

Without any acknowledgement of that, Bella turned to Emmett. Again, I sensed ulterior motives for the answer.

"Hell yes! We can find some other way to pick a fight with this Demetri."

She turned to Esme, who replied, "Yes of course, Bella. I already think of you as part of my family."

Carlisle was last, not that it mattered. The majority was cast, despite Rosalie's futile protestation. Carlisle looked to his son, sympathy etched into each part of him. He had not wanted to do this, had massive reservations but he loved his son more than he knew how to express and would do the right thing, as Rosalie had predicted.

"Edward," he tried to console him.

Edward let out an unpleasant growl. "NO!"

"It's the only way that makes sense. You've chosen not to live without her and that doesn't leave me with a choice," he told him, echoing Rosalie's logic.

Edward stormed away, predictably furious. It left a nasty taste in my mouth, seconded only by Rosalie's agonising confliction. Bella was hugging Esme when Rosalie winced moments before a thunderous crash echoed throughout the house. Something made of porcelain had been destroyed. No-one but Rose and myself seemed to notice. They were talking to one another, hugging. Rosalie stared down at the table and I put all my strength into trying to comfort her, because no-one else would, but it was as futile as trying to empty the oceans with cupped hands.

"Well, Alice," Bella was saying when my senses sharpened on something between Edward and Rosalie; something that made my stomach tighten and clench. "Where do you want to do this?"

"No! No! NO!" Edward raged, as he came back, all shaking fury. He got up in Bella's face, screaming at her. Rosalie watched, eyes wide. "Are you insane? Have you utterly lost your mind?"

There was a dizzying moment of silence while everyone processed the shock of seeing him treat her like anything less the precious, breakable treasure he usually considered her to be. Alice broke it, like always.

"Um, Bella. I don't think I'm ready for that. I'll need to prepare..."

"You promised," Bella said, not seeming to be intimidated by the way Edward was crowding her personal space.

"I know but, seriously, Bella – I don't have any idea how _not_ to kill you!"

"You can do it, I trust you," Bella told her as Edward let loose another feral snarl.

Even Alice wasn't going to mess with Edward when he was like this. Slowly, but surely, I felt Rosalie resume her attempt to calm him. Bella looked to Carlisle, but Edward grabbed her delicate jaw and yanked back to his face. I'd never seen him like that; never seen him manhandle her in the slightest. It was disturbing.

"I'm able to do it," Carlisle said and Rosalie put more energy into calming Edward down before he exploded. I felt it go through their bond, the strain on her end of making the psychic element between them manifest as something physical. "You would be in no danger of me losing control."

"Sounds good," Bella managed, though Edward was clenching her jaw. Rosalie did something that seemed to strike a chord inside of him and his furious fears simmered instead of boiled, though his entire being was trembling. She had...suggested something; something she really didn't like, but felt was a necessary evil.

"Hold on, it doesn't have to be now," he tried.

Bella countered, "There's no reason for it not to be now."

"I can think of a few."

"Of course you can. Now let go of me."

I had to give her props for that. She wasn't very intimidated by him at all.

Edward pursed his lips, crossing his arms. "In about two hours, Charlie will be here looking for you. I wouldn't put it past him to involve the police."

Bella rolled her eyes. "All three of them."

Edward turned to Carlisle, as though he couldn't bear to look at Bella while she was being so determined. "In the interest of remaining inconspicuous, I suggest we put this conversation off, at the very least until Bella finished high school and moved out of Charlie's house."

"That's a reasonable request, Bella," Carlisle pointed out and Edward calmed himself a little more; going with the flow of what Rosalie was doing inside his mind. I was starting to get a feel for what exactly it was she was doing; it was like stroking a wild, injured animal.

Bella didn't seem to like it, but she couldn't argue the logic. "I'll consider it."

Edward didn't seem to be able to look at any of us. "I should probably take you home. Just in case Charlie wakes up."

"After graduation?" Bella prompted one last time, begging Carlisle to keep to his word and damn her.

He nodded solemnly. "You have my word."

That seemed to satisfy her, or at least enough to let Edward drag her elsewhere. "OK. You can take me home now."

They left together quickly; I felt a little concerned for Bella, given the state of mind Edward seemed to be in, although she seemed to have proven herself beyond what I'd credited her. Everyone was tense after what had happened, but there seemed to be a general sense of acceptance. Emmett was still feeling whatever it was he was being eaten alive by for Rosalie and he exited without a word to her, muttering something about cars. Esme kissed Rosalie's cheek, telling her how proud of her she was for being so selfless. Carlisle seemed to agree and most of the concern he'd felt for what Rosalie actions a few days ago melted away into a sea of unstoppable affection and love for his first daughter. Alice was preoccupied with the direct future, trying to soft through plans for returning to school and such. Rosalie was oddly numb to everything around her; an unusual feeling to emanate from one such as herself.

I waited until everyone else had left before I sat down beside Rosalie, silently waiting for her to speak. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled.

"That went well."

"These little meetings always do. Esme is going to be thrilled when she sees the Ming smashed to oblivion in the foyer," I said in turn, keeping it light until she wanted to let me in on something more significant.

"He thinks I betrayed him, again," she said softly and very much under her breath. "Something I seem to be doing a lot lately, trying to save his life."

"He's being precious; let him come around and he'll understand what it is you're trying to do for him."

She shrugged elegantly. "I don't really care. The ability to generate anger towards him seems to have worn out completely. It's like nothing matters beyond his safety; something I've never been so aware of until now."

"What about Emmett?"

She sighed. "Not now, Jazz. Please."

"OK, I'm sorry. I just want to help make things easier for you."

She stood, brushing a kiss against my cheek as she did. "That's your problem, darling. You always did have a thing for lost causes."

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

My staring contest with the moon had been going on for the last three and half hours now; a measure of distraction while I waited for the inevitable. I had seen eight shooting stars so far, detectably only to my sharp eyes. The sky was shockingly clear of any traces of clouds for once and the moon had the entire stage to herself; full and glowing with cold rays of reflected sunlight.

I had been standing like this for a good long while now, alone for the most part. Emmett had come to see me once, four hours ago and had left in a worse mood than when he'd approached me. I had been relatively honest for once; I genuinely _didn't_ understand why I found myself leaning away from his more intimate touches lately. There was no obvious reason behind it; I just simply didn't want to be touched, at least not in a sexual way. Strange, we had never had that problem before.

Rationality owned an impressive theory. The shock of almost losing Edward had pushed me a little too far and I was most likely still in shock, unable to resume my place in the life I lead with my husband. I'd made myself almost _ill_ with the sickening worry, the belief that our collective soul would be obliterated in the name of a dead, useless human girl.

But it was never that simple. Not only would that have made sense, it would have been something I could have explained to Emmett. No, the truth was always far worse, far more tangled.

I stared at the moon, wishing it gone for once. The light was not what I had come outside for; I'd sought darkness in those early hours of my decision to be alone for a while. I had wished to be invisible, not illuminated beneath a heavenly spotlight, as though God himself was watching my every move, every stilted breath.

The official theory amongst the rest of the family would be that I wanted to be left alone with my current mood-swing. That was fine; let them think that, call me bitch or drama queen or whatever they wanted. I would wait and it would happen eventually, because it always did.

It took another sixteen minutes before my senses prickled and I caught his scent.

"You're glowing," he said, before he could stop himself. Internally, he chastised himself for not thinking before speaking. I felt his struggle, the conflict. I exhaled cold breath into the cold air.

"It's the moon," I told him and waited.

He came to stand beside me, not touching me at all and said, "I asked her to marry me."

"I know. It was my idea, remember? What did she say?"

He didn't reply, but I let my eyes glaze over slightly and slid into his mind as though it was nothing but a warm bath. The answer was there, hovering uncertainly inside him.

"It worked. She's willing to barter time for it," he whispered.

"As if she would actually say no," I said with a smile I didn't understand.

He was biting his bottom lip, I could _feel_ it. "I can never say sorry, can I?"

"No."

"Tell me what to do."

"There's nothing to do, Edward. Nothing for you to be sorry for. Don't you see? None of it matters. You're alive, and here and safe and that is the totality of everything. So marry her, do what you need to do."

He let out a small sob. "Rose. Please."

I turned away from the moon, terrified but unable to stop myself looking at him. He was closer than I'd thought. "What do you want me to do?" I asked gently. "You know I'll do it."

He scrunched up his face. "Don't talk like that. It's a mark of the damage I've done."

"You're wrong. It's just that I've gained a little perspective over the last few days. It probably won't last, in fact I guarantee it won't. Just for now, all I care about it that you're alright," I said and my hand reached up of it's own accord to touch his face. He let out a shuddering breath, leaning into the touch.

"I love you so much, Rose," he breathed. "So much that it's not even love. You're _mine_."

I swallowed a building lump. "And I am yours, Edward. It's stating the obvious at this point, but I can't seem to stop saying it."

His hand covered mind, twining our fingers together. "Say it to me, Rose."

I leaned in closer, bringing my other hand up behind his neck and pulled us together, stopping a hair's breadth shy of kissing. "Not time, or love or obligation," I whispered into him. "Nothing can come between us, nothing we do not allow."

His free hand pulled me into him, destroying that remaining space between us and crashed his mouth onto mine. The numbness I had packed around myself shattered dangerously and everything inside of my woke up as though electrocuted. Heat, need, love, want, so much love and knowing and desperation. I couldn't catch my breath, so instead I clamped onto him and threw myself into the kiss. The familiar, dangerous taste of his lips, mouth and tongue were filling my head until I forgot my own name.

"Love you," he gasped in between the frantic movements of our embrace. "Love you too much, can't breathe, can't think...love you, Rose..."

I choked down a sob, forgetting that we were only in the yard of the place we both lived with our family. It didn't matter, could never hope to matter in the face of _this_.

Bliss so perfect it was bordering on painful and all the words in the world could never sum it up. It was almost chemical; his body on mine, his hands, my hands, the _kiss_...every point of contact set off spark, fire, Goddamned nuclear fission through our wrecked and abused nervous systems, leaving us shaking and blown apart so we could bleed into one another once more, become that single being with no hope of seeing the outside world ever again.

It became a little clearer every time.

Deep down, there was no singularity or individuality; there was only us. One soul, one mind, split but forever taunted by the opportunity to rejoin for a short while.

I pushed him back only enough that we couldn't keep kissing and it _hurt_ so bad that I wanted to cry for the loss. His hands were tangled in my hair, thumbs sweeping over the skin of my face and cheeks where they could reach. His eyes...Christ, they were glazed and sharp at the same time. Dizzy, unstable with...whatever it was.

"Stay with me," he begged. "Let me stay with you." I groaned and tried to twist out of the embrace, but he pulled me back in, entire body flush with my own. "You think you're the only to have their perspective blown wide open? I get it now; I get it better than I ever did before. I _understand_ why you have Emmett, but I also understand what that means and what it doesn't. I love Bella, no I do...please, look at me. I love her and I can't be without her in my life but that does _not mean for one moment_ that I this isn't what it is. You, Rosalie Hale, are the world. The universe. Everything else, important and wonderful though it is, simply resides there."

"Swear you'll never do that again," I pleaded against his lips, fingertips raking through his hair, down his neck, drawing out a shiver from him.

"Never," he swore. "I'm here, always. You and me...this is it."

"You'll marry her," I said, breathless as his lips trailed down my chin, neck and collarbone, one hand reaching around my back, sliding downwards.

"And I'll dance with _you_," he sang, reminding me of something I had said to him once, a long time ago. He smiled against my skin, reading my mind no doubt. "I'll dance with you because it'll be our wedding too. I'd marry you here and now under this moon if I thought for one moment it would be relevant."

My head fell back under the assault of his mouth, the unbearable heat curling through each part of me, threatening to explode out of my chest. "I love you."

"I'm yours and you're mine and nothing can come between that," he mouthed the words against my skin as if branding them there forever. "Not time or love or obligation."

There was a noise form inside, something like a door being opened or closed and I shoved him away violently, struggling to control my breathing. He was doing the same, though there was an intense look of regret and annoyance in his eyes. I felt it too, but pushed it down. It could wait. We took a few careful steps back from one another and straightened out the various clothing that had gone askew.

"This is how it has to be now, Rose," he said, so faintly I almost didn't hear it. "No more denying and self sacrificing. I'll live forever, I swear it, but only if we can be like we were before."

"The risks..."

"Are _worth _it," he insisted wildly, but quietly. "We've done it before, we can do it again."

"Bella?"

"I love her. I'll always love her but it is _only love_, Rose. It's not this."

I couldn't stop the smile, couldn't stop my heart threatening to burst into a thousand glittering echoes of relief because something _right_ was finally happening.

"We'll have to try harder."

"We will, we can do it. We can do anything except pretend this isn't real. Promise me we can have this?" he asked, and I felt him touch me inside my mind. _Promise_.

'_I promise, Edward.'_

His smile was brighter than the moon, more stunning than anything I'd seen in a long time and that only because it had been a long time since I'd last seen him smile like that. He looked younger, more like the boy I'd known when he'd never kissed anyone before, never touched anyone like he was touching me in those early years before I even knew Emmett existed. The same wonder and awe in his eyes and heart, radiating through his smile.

He had to go and we both knew it; it would take planning and caution to find time to be properly alone, but it didn't matter if it took years for one single stolen moment.

He left with only the briefest touch to my face; fleeting press of his fingertips and then he was gone, back to his future wife. When I looked back at the moon, I found solace in the light though it's glare was blatantly disapproving, as though it might run and tell tales. No matter; Edward and I were master of legerdemain; we would talk the sun and the moon into crossing paths; into blinding one another from us, even if only for a small amount of time. Soon we would trick the sun behind the moon and the moon would not be able to see anything for the sun's rays.

Soon, there would be an eclipse.

* * *

_A/N – _I think we've reached some kind of stage now where it is going to take me a month, bare minimum to knock out a chapter. This disgusts me to some extent, but I really am finding it difficult lately to produce this level of work so in the interest of not getting people's hopes up, let's be safe and say a month minimum to get each chapter done and posted.

That said, I _have_ finished the other two things I've been writing on the side lately so who knows? Maybe the BP muse will saunter back in and demand all my attention as she did years ago.

So. This chapter was beyond difficult and was re-written twice. I had issues with the canon 'Vote' scene, as you can probably see and if there are mistakes, yell them out because I'm posting this relatively un-edited so it's at least out there for you lovely people to read. I must thank you all once again for your unending patience with this story and with me. I'm not slacking, I swear – just that it's hard graft with this latest arc.

Anywho, I really hope everyone enjoyed. There are bits and pieces here and there which I really like, other parts I don't like and the bits I hated – I threw away, but hopefully it's still...readable. So here it comes, me begging for reviews like a starving artist or something else similarly clichéd and trite. Massive thanks and love to those who have reviewed so far, please it comin' as it's my only source of inspiration at the moment. Damned stubborn characters.

Also, did anyone notice my highly unsubtle segueway into '_Eclipse_'? It's officially out of the _'New Moon'_ area now and onto something else. I'm much less familiar with Eclipse, so it should be interesting. In the meantime, my life is frantic and harried; searching for a car, trying to get pregnant – oh yes, there's a story you really don't want to hear – and looking after my brother and sisters. Sigh.

Bex

X x x x x


	40. Chapter 40: In The Absence of Angels

**-Chapter Forty: In the Absence of Angels-**

'_Make me a witness,  
__Take me out...out of darkness,  
__Out of doubt.  
__I won't weigh you down,  
__With good intentions.  
__Won't make fire out of clay,  
__Or other inventions.  
__Will we burn in heaven, like we do down here?  
__Will the change come while we're waiting?  
__Everyone is waiting.'_

_-Sarah McLachlan_

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

_-December 6__th__ 1935-_

_I would discover over the coming years and decades, that certain phrases and words would stick in my mind and never leave. Odd little bits and pieces of everyday words, combined in such a way as to imply great significance. When the mind is left to wander listlessly and alone, in the stark absence of God or any kind spirits, the things it chooses to replay over and over are rarely pleasant. Fear and horror has a way of branding itself into the brain, whereas happiness – gentle and passive in it's nature – comes and goes without a trace. When alone, the mind revisits old wounds. One in particular stayed with me for a long time after. _

'You're pretty when you cry.'

_He'd breathed it close to me, alcohol and unnatural heat ghosting over my skin like a fever and the words caught me horrifyingly off guard. They still did. It was, in all likeliness, a throw away comment from the one track mind of Royce King. To him it was a meaningless cruelty; a little salt to flavour the meat before to took his share. A simple comment, well received by his friends, but it would change me forever, perhaps more so than the actual violation that followed. _

_Now it haunted me, plagued me in ways I despised because it was the past, after all. I was trying to push it away, move forward. There were already too many men in my life, too many balls in the air without the devastating observations of a dead rapist. _

_Irritated with myself and the world in general, I launched the book I had been trying and failing to distract myself with in a corner where it impacted satisfyingly on a wall and fell in a heap, open winged, pages crushed into uneven triangles. Today was not the day for Chaucer. Nothing seemed to be working; no books, no music, nothing. The words were crystal clear in my mind, unwilling to budge or give way to any soothing distraction. _

'You're pretty when you cry.'

_The implication was clear, of course. It had been from the very start. I had been attacked because I was beautiful; I had died because of my looks. Golden hair, stunning eyes, perfect features; and for what? For the husband of my dreams to rape me to death? Oh yes, I was certain that even while crying I was pretty because that would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn't it? _

_Yet, it was more than that. It seemed to signify, and the coming years would confirm, that my life would be forever interwoven with tragedy at each at every turn. A sharp and stinging irony for each glimmer of happiness. I would be pretty, but I would be crying. I'd be beautiful, but it would destroy me to look in the mirror and see the face that turned men to violent and murderous lust. I would find my perfect, darling husband...and systematically betray him in secret for as long as eternity held out. _

_I would find the other half of my soul, but the timing would always mock us and laugh at us in our misfortune. Love and hate would be synonymous; happiness and devastation. There would be no happy ending for me, and if it seemed so...it would be the product of much deception and treachery. _

_A gentle knock at the door broke me from the trance I'd been falling into, staring blindly at a nearby lamp. "Come in," I offered to Carlisle, who hesitated outside in the hallway. _

"_Sorry to interrupt," he said, finally peering around the door with an apologetic smile. "I thought I heard a noise. A rather loud noise." His eyes wandered, obviously searching for any potential damage I'd done to the room. "Is Edward nearby?" he asked in a would-be-casual voice. _

_I tilted my head to the side and crossed my legs. "Should he be?" I asked, almost coldly, following his line of sight as he noticed the crumpled book. _

"_I should hope not," he said, turning back to me with a pleasant smile. "He's supposed to be taking Emmett hunting."_

"_He is," I assured him quickly. "He wouldn't leave him again. Not after..."_

_He glanced down, eyes shadowed and filled with regret. "No. I suppose not. How is he coping?"_

_I shrugged elegantly because I did not want this conversation, but I could not dismiss it outright. "Very well. I am attempting it instil a sense of...detachment. It is a troublesome procedure."_

"_You believe that to be a wise choice?"_

"_Who amongst us has killed a child? He is dealing with something entirely different and requires a different method of assistance. Any fears you might have about a repeat of the incident are unfounded. He'll not soon be so brash again," I said, watching Carlisle's eyes sweep over my desk with nothing but a passive interest, yet my heart clenched all the same. Damned desk. _

"_Indeed. Rose, we must speak of the situation between yourself and Emmett," he said, quite suddenly. _

_My lips parted with surprise. "We must?"_

"_We must," he confirmed, speaking to me as though I was an adult and not the child he seemed to see me as usually. _

"_Why?"_

"_We must establish the status quo, Rose. There has been relative silence about any progression between the two of you and it does no good to hide such progress. As I am sure you'll agree."_

_I chose to ignore the subtle reminder sewn into the end of that. "This is absolutely necessary?"_

_He smiled at me and it was with so much love that I momentarily forgot that I was supposed to be outraged at what he was politely asking to be informed of. _

"_I would never insist upon anything that made you uncomfortable, as you are aware," he pointed out. "But I suppose we are hoping for...a little good news? It seems inevitable at this point but we have been wrong before, so..."_

_I nodded slowly and relaxed my hands. "I see. Then I suppose it can be considered official that Emmett and I are together. In a relationship. In love. Together," I added, unnecessarily. _

"_Splendid," he said, exhibiting not an ounce of surprise; instead it was relief that a fact everyone had taken for granted, was now official. "Congratulations, my darling. I wish you an eternity of happiness."_

_I managed to smile and accept his good wishes with impressive exterior grace. Something markedly primal disliked my proclamation and his well intended congratulations, but I ignored it. "Thank you." I half expected him to go and was already halfway out of the chair when it became apparent he had something else to add. _

"_Sorry," he said, quieter now. "I just wanted to ask whether you would be telling Edward yourself, or if you would prefer Esme or myself to do so on your behalf?"_

_I blinked, wondering if I had missed something significant. "Sorry?"_

"_Are you going to tell Edward about your relationship with Emmett?"_

_Oh. _Oh.

"_Ah, yes well I think at this point he will be the least surprised of all of us," I said dismissively. _

_Carlisle was halfway to raising an eyebrow when I cut him off with, "Because of the close relationship he and Emmett share. I am certain he has told Edward much of how he might feel for me. They are brothers in many respects. You seem eager for him to learn the news."_

"_It is a thing that cements us all a little more," he said, perfectly neutral. "A blessing that will bring us closer together."_

"_And Edward? He will be the odd number out, as he was before," I pointed out. _

_Carlisle's beautiful eyes were locked onto mine as he said, "Edward has you." It was a long moment before he added, "And Emmett, Esme and myself."_

_My throat was very dry then, very dry indeed. "Of course."_

_He hugged me then, leaning down to where I was seated awkwardly on the plush arm chair and enveloping me in his arms. "All we have is have each other and that is all that matters in the end, is it not?"_

_I thought then of Edward and Emmett; of their brotherly love and friendship; of Emmett's child-like trust and blossoming love. His smile, his eyes, his pure and precious innocence that I would eventually taint and ruin because I was poisonous and broken. My throat tightened and my eyes and nose stung; a sensation that had been absent for some time. _

_Carlisle drew back, sensing the change. He wiped away the tears with a simple brush of his thumb and a loving smile. "Dearest Rosalie; so lovely, even when you cry."_

* * *

The first kiss, after what seemed an eternity of _waiting _for it, went by in a blur of heat and urgency. The smaller details, the finer points were lost in the desperation and demand to gain proximity. This was how first kisses often went between us; a blinding crash of impact and contact and it was all too easy to forget we were _kissing_ and not simply trying to smash into one another. The second kiss was barely even that; more of a basic prelude to what was coming next. Reassurance that _yes, we would be doing more as soon as we could. _A flurry of touches, of contact and breathless excitement and if there was a third kiss, it was sporadic and graceless and I'd forgotten it. No time for the usual mastery. No time to patiently become reacquainted with one another's form. I could barely recall a time his mouth stayed on mine for more than ten seconds but then my desire to recollect at all was weak.

Details were usually important to us, as immortals, but it was impossible to focus when I was with Edward. Things like details seemed to melt into obscurity when we were close like this.

I let out a small laugh; it reverberated through my back and into his chest where he nuzzled deeper into the curve of my neck, softly biting at the skin he found there. I settled back into him and smiled helplessly, the feel of him behind me was exquisite. He tightened his arms around my waist, the bathwater moving in little waves as he did so. There was some kind of irony there – us being in the bathtub together - but I did not care to seek it out or to divulge any greater meaning.

"That was far too easy," he rumbled against my skin, still dragging his teeth over the flesh even as we basked in the afterglow of the reasons why the bathroom floor was a sodden wreck. "Shouldn't it be difficult to carry out an illicit affair? It seemed more difficult when we were young."

"When we were young, we did everything we could to _make_ it difficult," I replied. "Maybe we've changed. Maybe we've grown up."

"Maybe _you_ have," he teased. "I, on the other hand, have always been the consummate adult in this relationship."

I smiled, shifting my hips slightly. "Pride Goeth, Edward."

He lifted his lips to my ear, the warm flesh brushing softly against the outer shell. "Then I shall fall, Miss Hale, and take you all the way with me."

I laughed outright even as I twisted his arms tighter around me. His fingers began to play idly with the dip into my belly button; tracing circles around it in a lazy fashion. "I do so love when you recite prose to me, Mr Cullen."

He pressed a kiss to my throat. "You do not find it...rudimentary?" he teased and the memory caught me a little off-guard. The lighthouse, the ocean so close by; crashing waves and the fresh salt of the water. His inaccurate translations of quotes that he knew I would love, in languages other than our own. "What language would you prefer?" he whispered and the dividing line between reality and memory faltered like a flickering light for all of a moment.

"There is no language for what I would have you say, Edward," I told him, lifting a hand to his face. He leaned into it turning to press a kiss into the palm. "Palm to palm is holy palmers kiss," I said, quite randomly and without reason behind it.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" he recited right back, not missing a beat.

I shifted my knee, pressing back into him a little more and revelled at the small sound it elicited from him. "An interesting set of parallels, if you lend thought to it."

"Hmm, as Bella has already pointed out to me," he said and then paused, as though wishing he could take it back. His mind flashed with regret for mentioning her name, but I was quick to sooth him, extending that tendril of light and consciousness between us as simply as if I was extending yet another limb.

"But where do I factor into that story?" I asked, playing along.

I felt him smile in a devilish manner, the guilt and anxiety vanishing. "Rosaline, of course."

"Ah, indeed. But that would mean that the greatest love story ever told was a story of childish rebound and unfortunate timing. Could you compare your great love to that, Edward?"

"Control yourself," he warned, against my neck; one of the hands tangled about my waist, beginning to slide upwards across the flat planes of my stomach. He sighed, all his body relaxing just that little bit more. "Christ, I love you _so much_, Rose."

"Only love?"

"Find the right word, and I'll repeat it until it loses all meaning."

"Do you think this is what the others feel? Alice and Jazz, Carlisle and Esme?" I asked after a few moments worth of contemplative silence. He tilted his head and I focused on his mind as it pondered the question.

"No," he said finally. "They can't."

"Why not?"

"Because they're so...in control of themselves. So _human_ sometimes."

I followed the vein of thought in his mind, still a strange sensation, and saw where it led. "Interesting," I said. "You really believe that?"

He chuckled softly against my cheek. "We're really doing this? Now?"

"But how can you believe that and love Bella as you do?" I asked, searching within the complex labyrinth of his mind for an answer he was obviously a little hesitant to give at such a time. I withdrew quickly, not wishing to violate any unspoken boundary, but that warm tendril of perfect, golden light drew me back inside.

'_Because I'm a little bit messed, up,_' he told me. _'Maybe you've noticed.'_

"You believe we're disconnected from the world to such an extent, but you love a human?"

There was a strange pause before he said, "Maybe that's _why_ I love her."

"Because she's imperfect? Because she falls over, sneezes, gets out of breath?"

"Because we never can. Sometimes I think I'm so in love with those little imperfections; like I'd give anything for my body to surprise me again. There's too much control, too much perfection. It's just...it makes me feel isolated from the human race." He spoke slowly, quietly as if he didn't want the world outside the small space we were wrapped up in to hear his thoughts. "She snores, you know. It's amazing."

"And when she's one of us?" I just had to ask.

He stiffened slightly and his hesitation to answer was impressive, but he overcame it.

"It's not set in stone that she ever will be, though of course I'll always love her. But as I said, Rose, it is only love. It's not this. Not you. Could never be this, never. She's like blown glass; fragile and precious, not made to withstand the true force of my emotions and nature. Even if or when she's immortal, she'll still be blown glass. If she ever saw what's inside me...she'd break."

The direct parallel to Emmett went unspoken, and I was grateful for that.

"Things always break," I told him, almost absentmindedly. "Things always will."

I turned in the bathtub and rolled so I was nose to nose with him. Bathwater slopped over the side, crashing down on the crystal white tiles of the floor. His eyes flashed and there was a hint of a smile that he couldn't quite contain, though he was trying to. He pulled me closed by the back of my neck, lips stopping short of touching.

"You're making a mess," he told me, but those golden eyes were _mine_ locked into _me_ and it was hard to care about the state of that temporary, other world when I was in the _real world_ at last.

"A hitch in your flawless plan?" I asked, voice rough and low, completely on top of him, not even bothering to hold myself up. My knee slid between his thighs and his eyelashes fluttered a little as he tried to bite back the groan he couldn't contain.

"Why the bath, Rose?" he asked me, so quietly he might not have said it at all, except that I heard it in his mind.

I paused for a moment. "Because I want this to be the start of new bathtub memories. Because I want to put behind us all the previously horrific memories whenever I look at a bath."

His eyes flashed again, renewed intensity making the gold in them sear and burn.

The fourth kiss _was_ a kiss. Heat, possession, aching perfection; the connecting point of live wires. Each sound that passed between us was shared and swallowed and we rolled and fought for _more_ in the confined space of the bathtub, water splashing merrily all around us.

There was so little time left until the others would return and despite Edward's assurances that the plan had been easy to execute, in truth it had taken great planning and flawless performances to give us that small allotted portion of time alone together.

Edward had purchased the tickets to the theatre for everyone but himself because he would, of course, be _Spending Time With Bella_. Then it had fallen to me to orchestrate the argument between Emmett and myself twenty minutes before it was time to go; not a difficult task. I had point blank refused to go with everyone and insisted that Emmett stay behind, so we could continue the argument. He had furiously, but predictably, declined simply because I had insisted upon it. It had taken a few very deep breaths to work up the strength to shove away the niggling guilt of _that_.

I'd been in the bath when Edward had found me, alone for the first time in weeks since our agreement in the yard, witnessed and sealed by the watchful gaze of the moon. There had been no time to get out of the bath, no time for Edward to even remove most of his clothes. He had sort of fallen into the bath, fallen into me, really. If I hadn't been so ridiculously caught up in it, it might have been funny. Now a great deal of the rapidly cooling water was on the floor, along with his soaked garments which I had torn from his body.

That worm of guilt in the back of my mind concerning Emmett was easy to ignore while I was so close to Edward, in all the ways I could possibly be. It reminded me of the decades before, when we had first attempted to perfect our deceptions. I'd forgotten how easy it was to still love Emmett as much as ever, whilst being wrapped up entirely in Edward.

And yes, I _knew_ what a terrible, evil person that made me. There would be time for self flagellation later; this time was _ours_ and ours alone.

"Why has it...taken us...so long to get...this..._right_?" he growled under the assault of my mouth on his. There was barely room to breathe, should the need have arisen, let alone speak and I wondered if it was rhetorical for a moment before I saw into his mind, his soul...and I faltered for a moment. His awe and wonder at the thing between us was so childlike and fervent it quite took my breath away, had I any to begin with. I could only mould myself into him, frightened by how much I agreed with him.

So many years of struggling against it, of self denial and stubborn insistences. Horrific, scarring fights and exchanges that broke us apart, only to piece one another back together again and sear the broken edges with the white heat generated between us. Why had we never _given in_?

And again, there was that tiny little nagging voice somewhere behind an enormous locked door, telling me that the reason we had finally gotten it right, was because it came at a great cost to _someone else_.

But I didn't want to think of _someone else_. Couldn't let him into my thoughts at all because it wouldn't be fair to Edward.

It was only later, while we were mopping up the bathroom floor in a rather unorthodox manner, that it occurred to me that what I was doing would have almost instantaneous consequences. When had the universe ever turned a blind eye to a moment of perfect happiness between us and decided to give it to us, free of charge?

I didn't even hear the phone, it was Edward who dragged his mouth from mine and alerted me to it. Breathless and dizzy, I realised it was my cell. It could only be one person and I wasn't ready to answer it, not like this. I shook my head and brought his mouth back down on mine, hard, the floor beneath us being the only thing stopping us from falling completely and never stopping.

But it was futile. If he was calling, then the theatre and it's distraction had expired and the family would be on their way back soon. We realised this collectively and in perfect synchronisation as we both fought to break the ever magnetic contact between us.

The difference between this time and the thousands of others though, was that this time there was no uncertainty as to when we would be allowed to continue. It was a fact, jointly acknowledged by us both, that there _would_ be another time. Soon. Our joint determination would see to it.

"So," he said, holding his lips close to mine, trembling with the effort of maintain some semblance of control. "When can I see you again?"

I smiled, languishing in the feel of his hair between my fingers. "I'll have to check my calendar."

I drew away far enough so I could look at him, _really_ look as I so rarely allowed myself to do. It wasn't that he was beautiful, which he was – ridiculously so; it wasn't those deep, dark eyes, never light no matter how much he hunted and fed. It was that he was mine, my Edward, myself even. The feelings it evoked, just looking at him, were preposterously strong. In the outside world, we would be despised universally for our weakness in giving in to our desires...but they would never know the strength it took to do _this_. To move away, to stop touching, to not stay like that forever and let the consequences be damned because this was all there was, all that remain after eternity had expired.

Edward closed his eyes and shook his head. "They'll never know, Rose," he promised me, as he had used to do when we were younger. "I have to go."

He left after branding a kiss to my lips that I would feel for a long time after he was gone. The series of simple gestures I went through after that seemed devoid of meaning and importance. I washed again, thoroughly and ruthlessly to avoid any suspicion. Once I was completely clean, I slipped on my dressing gown and went to leave the bathroom, pristine and dry once more without a speck of evidence to suggest the beautiful atrocities that had taken place within it's walls. Walls that were...glittering?

Artificial light caught on the sparkling surface of the diamonds, sending infinite little specks of brilliance around the tiled room, too delicate for the human eyes to detect, but easily visible to mine. I tried to count the individual flecks of reflected illumination, but failed. I glanced down at my hand and moved the finger, upon which sat the ring, and made the light dance for me.

It was the ring Emmett had given to me in 1971 for the first time, though we had been married for a while. One ridiculously large diamond, set upon a band of gold encrusted with tiny rubies. It would have been gaudy had it come from anyone else. I twirled the ring around my finger, fascinated and compelled by the small, but deeply meaningful object and the great significance it held.

It was all too easy to fall into the trap of over-thinking when I was alone. There were too many pitfalls, memories, theories; all waiting their turn to be given some attention. Each thought led to another and another; there was no escape from the mammoth web that was my mind, unless there was some level of distraction.

I'd known it would be bad, the moment Edward left, but I didn't think it would hit this quickly. There had used to exist some sort of refractory period, some small amount of time before the real world would crash in once more. A thing of the past, clearly.

My hand tightened of it's own accord. It was unbearable, the knowledge of what I was doing to him. Despite the level of unconsciousness, if only in the beginning, there was no excuse for it. Not now, not after everything. How could I do it to him, after everything he'd put up with from me? I wasn't stupid – I _knew_ how difficult I was, how much patience it required being my husband and partner. The life we had together was not a simple one, was certainly no walk in the park. I made his life difficult, I made _everything_ difficult because simplicity frightened me and I couldn't function in a world without complications to wade through.

The reasons behind this were not forthcoming, probably never would be. I sometimes searched for answers but it was a half hearted search; part of me feared what might be unravelled if I pulled too hard at the fabric of who I was. Whatever the instinct was, it was ground deep inside me and refused to surface to be analysed. Deep, basic and unswervingly complex...I had no control over it, whatever it was. I could only scrabble to cover the mess it was making, to clear the ruin left in it's destructive path.

Perhaps it was simply a necessary side effect of the change I was attempting to instigate. Maybe after so long a period of abstinence and denial with regards to Edward (even as I thought his name, his attention sharpened and swivelled fully around to my mind) this newest breaking point was cracking more than my resolve. Things were breaking.

'_Things always break,'_ he reminded me gently, from an increasing distance. _'Things always will.'_

* * *

The first serious crack happened two days later.

It had begun as many nights had done in the past; one of us getting restless and deciding to do something together, giving Carlisle and Esme some much prized time alone for once which meant us grouping together like the teenagers we pretended to be in the den. This night marked one of the first in which we were all together for a while, including Edward. Bella had been nursing a cold over the last two days and that meant _not_ having her below zero temperature boyfriend cuddling up to her while she slept, so we had the pleasure of his company that night and Alice had suggested we play a game.

Again, not uncommon. If our spare time wasn't consumed by a movie, hunting or school, then it would be a game. One of the few things we did collectively, instead of going off in our separate little couples to do couple things.

So we'd been sitting in a circle on the floor of the den, bantering back and forth about which game to play.

"Forbidden Letter?" Alice suggested.

"You always pick, 'E'," Jasper was quick to point out. "And then the game is over in about ten seconds."

"Shopping List?" she tried, hopefully.

"Eidetic memories, Alice," Edward pointed out with a small smile. "Went on for five and half hours last time."

"This is silly," I piped up, because I always did. "We're immortals. We have intimate knowledge and life and death; of the underside of the world, the very fabric of theology."

"So...Spin The Bottle?" Jasper suggested, even as Alice gave him a shove.

"Only if I can organise it so that whenever it's your turn, it will land on either Edward or Emmett," she threatened with a sweet smile while Jasper and Edward pretended to look outraged. I looked to Emmett, expecting to see the same, but he seemed oddly blank; vacant, as though deep in thought.

"Baby?" I prompted. "You hear that?"

Everyone was looking at him now; aware of the tension his silence was generating.

"I know a game," he said, still not looking at me, but instead the space directly ahead. "Let's play Truth or Dare."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach, but I managed not to let it show. Immediately, Edward's voice was echoing inside my mind.

'_He doesn't know, Rose. He's angry, but he doesn't know. I can't tell what he's going to ask, he's blocking it, but I can tell it's going to be unpleasant.'_

And while I did genuinely appreciate the attempt at reassuring me, it simply made me turn cold. Jasper was staring at Emmett like he was a wild animal who might attack at any given moment while Alice looked concerned.

"We could," she said with the air of deliberation. "But I seem to recall the last time we played, Jasper dared Edward to branch out into the world of Cibophilia and that spiralled rather rapidly out of control."

No-one laughed, not even Edward. Everyone was staring at Emmett with a kind of controlled terror, waiting for him to speak.

"Just Truth, then?" he said and his eyes slid over to Edward who inwardly steeled himself.

"Sounds dull," Alice said, valiantly trying to diffuse the concrete thick tension. "I prefer, _I Never_, myself. Though I'm not sure what we'd do for the whole drink issue."

"Sounds good," Emmett said immediately. "Let's play that. I'll go first."

"Uh, Emmett, honey? Maybe we should..." I tried, but he ignored me solidly, staring directly at Edward as if he was the only person in the room.

"I never lied to any of my family about anything," he said flatly.

When nothing happened for what seemed like a very long set of seconds, Emmett raised one eyebrow – something I didn't know he could do – and said, "No-one?"

"Like I said, Em," Alice went on with a falsely cheerful voice. "The whole drink issue kind of gives it the kybosh."

"Forget the drink," he said, finally breaking the glaring competition he'd been having with Edward. "Let's just have a show of hands, huh? I_._ Never. Lied. To. My. Family."

By some wonderful show of camaraderie induced loyalty, everyone put their hand up except Emmett. "Oh really?" he asked Alice, deadpan.

"Yup," she said, nodding. "There's been many a time Rose has asked me if something suits her and I've said yes. Blatant lies."

I tried desperately to feign indignation about that for the sheer sake of appearances, but all I could feel was overwhelming relief at the solidarity she was showing me. I realised in a flood of sadness how much I missed Alice, missed our little rituals together. I resolved to make more of an effort, even if it meant spending time with Bella too.

"C'mon, Emmett," Jasper said with an entirely too calm voice. "Everyone lies. As mortal sins go, it's hardly worthy of the Ninth Layer, is it?"

Emmett smiled; one corner of his mouth rising crookedly in a way that it never did. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll pick something else, shall I? Something a little more _juicy_?"

If I wasn't suddenly going to be sick all over the floor, it would be by divine intervention.

"Emmett," I said, tone firmer this time. "Stop."

His eyes flashed, though still not looking at me, "Or _what_?"

I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Right then," he went on, mouth fixed in a grim line. "Everyone ready for round two?"

"Emmett," Edward said, but was cut off.

"I've never betrayed someone I love."

I closed my eyes and tried to cling to some remaining thread of sanity. This couldn't be happening, could it?

"Yeah, see, Emmett...this really isn't fun at all," Alice said. "This is about the least fun thing we've ever done and that's saying something, considering all those poetry readings Edward dragged us to."

I couldn't open my eyes to look at any of them, to see Edward and Emmett glaring back and forth, Jasper caught in the middle of it and poor Alice, confused and left out of the terrible secret that was about to explode over everyone.

'_Rose, it's OK,'_ Edward was telling me. _'I'm going to resolve this, I promise, just stay calm. Can you do that for me?'_

'_Yes.'_

"Alright," Edward said, out loud and I opened my eyes, suddenly unable to move or breathe. "I think I grasp the concept here, Emmett. There's no need for this charade."

"Concept?" Alice asked with an adorable little frown. "What concept?"

"Edward, can I talk to you outside please?" Jasper asked, quick as lightning, but Edward ignored him.

"Alice, there's something you should know," he said. "Something important."

Her eyes glazed for a moment, obviously trying to discern the nature of what Edward's revelation would be. Usually, during times like these, Alice would try to push her gift aside and relax as much as possible; but she was concerned, put on edge and she fell back into the habit of using it as a way of coping with things that unnerved her.

"I can't see what you're about to tell me," she said with an irritated scowl. "What is it?"

He paused. _'Still with me?'_

I sighed, knowing what he was about to do. _'Just do it.'_

And I watched as he took the breath that would shape and voice the words we had spent so much time trying avoid.

"Back in the 1930's, before Emmett was part of the family, there was an extremely brief period of time during which Rosalie and myself...were together. In a very limited fashion." He said it fast, like ripping off a band-aid.

Alice's expression didn't change. "And?"

Everyone, including Emmett, blinked.

"Wait a minute, you...you_ knew_?" Edward asked, suddenly high pitched with incredulity.

She shrugged casually. "Who didn't? Arguments of such a monumental capacity do not stem from indifference."

"How long have you known?" Jasper demanded, sounding as shocked as Edward.

"About a year, but longer than that I think. Deep down in the subconscious, maybe from the start. It never seemed important. In the past and all that, I thought. Why is it important now? Has something else..._happened_?"

"No," I said, throat dry. "Not at all."

"Then what's the big deal?" she asked, almost impatiently, rolling her eyes.

"_What's the big deal_?" Emmett snapped as I'd never heard him do outside of our bedroom. "You wouldn't be so blasé if you found out it had been Rosalie and Jasper canoodling before you'd met him!"

Alice tilted her head, actually considering it to my abject horror. The very prospect was so incestuous it made my stomach tilt. "It would have been unconscious; not an actual betrayal because I wouldn't have existed to them. If you want to get technical," she said and Edward winced visibly in anticipation of what was coming and through him I saw it too. "It would _me_ who'd be in the wrong as I would be the interloper; not the other way around." Jasper dropped his head in his hands.

Emmett's eyes hardened. "So I'm the interloper, am I? I'm the one who interfered in what could have been a beautiful love story?"

"Don't be so _stupid_!" I hissed, finally finding my voice. "We have _had _this conversation, in case you've forgotten. Both Edward and I have explained ourselves to the fullest degree possible and you were satisfied with that! What's changed so much that you would question the integrity of those who love you so much?"

There had been a very slim chance that he would have allowed that to browbeat him into submission; that he might have exhaled his anger and apologised, given in, given up and allowed Edward and I to cushion him with beautiful lies as we had been doing for so long.

But he didn't. He didn't break, didn't cave in.

Instead, he rose in one fluid motion and stormed out of the den, slamming the door so hard it broke off at the top hinge.

* * *

After that, things only seemed to get worse. The atmosphere, which had been only just tolerable before, skyrocketed to new heights of unbearable tension. It affected everyone, though they were admirable in their efforts not to let it show. Everyone had an especially cheery smile for both Emmett and myself whenever we entered a room, separately or together. Everyone was supportive and kind, offering to listen and give advice whenever was acceptable. I was grateful; I genuinely was, but there was only so much more I could take.

Alice had made it her personal vendetta to be as nice to me as was possible, which meant a massive resurgence in our Quality Sister Time activities. I'd almost forgotten how enthusiastic Alice could be when it came to projects, clothes and cars, although the latter was something we _all_ took an active interest in.

We had spoken several times about the fact that I'd never told her of the previous relationship with Edward and it was nice to have someone simply shrug and say it was my business. Alice was blessedly straightforward and although she was a little offended that Jasper knew when she didn't, she bore no grudge against either of us. Instead, she wanted to talk more about why it was upsetting Emmett so much.

And wasn't that a never-ending discussion?

There was a particularly painful incident during those days that everyone bore accidental witness to. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have even registered.

Edward had been in the music room, playing the piano. I'd been discussing something purposefully mundane with Esme when the song had registered with me. It was an unusual choice for Edward. An angry, tempestuous song set to a ruthless tempo and it took me a second to realise he was playing Rachmaninoff's _Prelude in C Minor._ I'd never heard him play that before. It was something I played, however, with some frequency.

What happened next seemed to be almost expected.

The house fell silent in dreaded anticipation and sure enough, I heard Emmett's voice calling my name as he opened the door to the music room and the playing stopped abruptly. Nothing was said after that, but the door was slammed loud enough to make me jump.

It got worse from there.

As the days drew on, Emmett ignoring me fastidiously throughout each one, my temper became frayed and ragged; the house began to feel cramped, as if it were a dormitory rather than a home. There was nothing I could say to Emmett to magically snap him out of whatever it was he was feeling and after a few attempts – all of which resulted in me reciting increasingly loud monologues to what might as well have been a brick wall - I gave up and stopped speaking to him in turn.

It was hell.

The whole family was torn apart by it, just as we were, only they were making the effort to somehow bring it all to an end with smiles and sympathy. Esme in particular was greatly affected by it; the general _chi_ of our coven was severely compromised and she hated to see any of her children arguing. It was safe to say this was the worst fight Emmett and I had ever had, not to mention the longest time we had ever not spoken.

Soon it was a week. A whole week. One hundred and sixty eight hours. One hundred thousand and eighty minutes. Six hundred and four thousand, eight hundred seconds. Time unbroken by sleep or rest or any real distraction save for what very little time Edward and I could scrape together. There shouldn't have been any time, of course. Edward was busy spending time with Bella, as she was still grounded, but he seemed to be going out of his way to try and find forbidden little moments for us to be together, even if it was only to take my hand in his briefly.

I held onto those moments during that week and sought to lose myself in anything but the silence surrounding me. I hunted like never before; took my frustration out on whatever unfortunate animal came across me and tried to slake a thirst that had nothing to do with blood.

The excruciating week's worth of silence was broken as I lay on the floor of the music room, brooding and pensive. Emmett came into the room so silently I didn't even notice until the door clicked shut.

"So," he said and I opened my eyes. "You ready to talk?"

I sat up propped on my elbows and gave him a long stare. "You're the one not talking to _me,_ I seem to recall."

He crossed his arms defiantly. "What is there to say?"

I waited for my trademark anger to flare up. Only it didn't which left me flailing somewhat. "Then why come to instigate a conversation?"

He made a face. "You think I _enjoy_ this? It's torture for me, Rosalie, as you're well aware."

"Then stop it!" It sounded plaintive, weak; begging. So very unlike me.

"I...it's not that simple."

Pulling my knees into my chest, I turned away. "You're overreacting."

"I am? Well, I think it's a bit overdue myself."

"Feeling left out of all the drama, Emmett?" I asked coldly, though it hurt immensely.

"Aren't I? Left out?"

"Oh, you know what? This is just _sad_!" I spat, drawing myself to full height and facing him full on. "Do you even know or are you just withdrawing because we haven't slept together for a while?"

He shook his head. "How dare you talk to me like that?" he asked, softly but with a dangerous intensity. "You know me better than anyone else on the planet and you _know_ it's not that!"

"Then what is it?" I demanded. "It's Edward, right? You're jealous of him, because we were together a million years ago?"

He swallowed, but maintained his steely countenance. "That's a part of it, yeah."

"Well what else is it?"

"It's you. More than anything, it's you. You're...different. You've been different for a while now and I've refrained from saying anything because I thought it might just be some fluctuation in mood. I know how temperamental you are, Rosalie, and it made sense that maybe...maybe it was just this whole Bella thing."

I was shaking already; really not a good sign. The instinctual need to draw Edward into my mind, to have him _there_ to give me comfort and strength was overwhelming, but I tried to refrain.

"I'm different? How so?"

He faltered for a moment. "You...you're different with me. It's less like you're in love with me and more like you _just love me_. Like I could easily fade away into being Jasper or Carlisle at any given moment."

Something in those words struck me as hard as if he had slapped me and I struggled to conceal it.

"You're embarrassing yourself," I warned him.

"Don't do that! Don't sidestep what I'm saying because you can't cope with it!"

I wanted to snap and scream and hurl things, but I held on tight to that little fragment of dignity and strength. "There is _nothing_ in this world I can't deal with! You want me to psycho-analyse your little melodrama? Fine. Yes, things have been different. Absolutely. Yes, Edward is part of the reason why things are different. Yes, I understand that finding out we had a connection once would be a big deal for you. And yes, I even get why you might feel a little jealous."

He looked like he wanted to argue the last, but I put up a hand to forestall him.

"But if you think for _one minute_ that I understand how you could say _that_ to me, then you're unhinged! You think I can exist a moment in this world without you? _You're my life, Emmett_ and I..."

CRASH!

It had happened too fast for me to even see what had happened. One moment he'd been perfectly stationary, the next there was a small velvet piano stood flying through the back window.

I looked from the smashed window, open mouthed, to Emmett. "Oh, sorry," he said, with enforced calm. "Did I interrupt your undying love soliloquy? You're going to wax poetic about how much you love and adore me and can't live without me and how could I ever think otherwise, right? I'm your life, your whole life and there's nothing outside of me. Right?"

A surge of feral panic hit me squarely in the place where that cold dead heart sat, motionless. It wasn't only my panic, it was Edward's too. He was listening, obviously, and somehow, finally...there was anger.

"What do you want me to say, then? You want me to tell you that sometimes this marriage doesn't _work_? That's what you want to hear? That sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in the sheer absolute boredom of what constitutes this life? That I feel like running away and leaving everyone, just to be alone? Is that what you want to hear?" I snarled.

His eyes were shuttered in a way I didn't know he could accomplish. He looked like..._Edward_, almost. Cold, detached. It was so wrong I couldn't even begin to fathom how to fix it.

"It's nothing newsworthy, but at least it's true," he said flatly. "You're not the only one who questions this marriage. Who thinks that sometimes it doesn't work. You are not the only one who questions _everything_ sometimes."

"Oh, so there is a brain behind the brawn?" I mocked cruelly.

"More than you've given any thought to, no doubt."

"So, shall we try to get to a point? Or do you just want to trade insults, which is ill advised because you _know_ I'm so much better at it than you! What is your problem with me, Emmett? Tell me and I'll do my best to fix whatever it is that's obviously so appalling you can't bring yourself to speak to me for a week!"

He closed his eyes. "I don't know where to begin."

He might as well have hit me. I swept past him wordlessly, making sure to outdo him that when I slammed the door, it didn't just come off at the hinge, it sent spider web cracks into the plaster all along the ceiling, threatening to bring it all crashing down.

* * *

It was that more than anything that sent me out into the night, desperate to get away from the increasingly cramped house, from the concerned smiles and from the tension thick enough that it was choking me. Emmett's face, hopelessly grim, as he'd said that to me. He had never spoken to me like that, never shown even the remotest hint of violent temperament around me. Emmett was gentle and patient and loving; not this. Not what I had reduced him to.

But the anger was too hot and fresh, coursing around my system, for me to process that. Just then, as I yanked on a coat and stormed out of the house, it was all his fault. How dare he speak to me like that? What right did he have to say those terrible things to me?

The air outside was cold, bitter in the back of my throat and the moon was nowhere to be seen in the black absence of sunlight. I revelled in it, sneered at the thought of the sunlight; all bright and cheery and perfect, like Emmett and Bella. The both of them were so similarly perfect and quintessentially _good_ it made me want to be sick; if ever there was a match made in heaven, it was them. My hand ran over the flesh of my neck, chasing away some phantom pressure or irritation. I hated him then, hated him so much it made my fingers twitch and curl involuntarily.

It was all his fault. He was the one who had come into my life, turned everything upside down, made me fall in love with him and betray Edward and myself for some watered down version of normality and happiness. He was the one who had forced me into a position where a choice was necessary. I should _never _have had to make any kind of choice with regards to Edward. Who knew, maybe if Emmett had never come along Edward and I would be the ones getting married a few times decade, moving away to be alone? With time, we would have grown up from the selfish, tempestuous teenagers we had been back then. We would have grown to realise that there was no need to turn everything into some massive problem or complication. We would have been together, loved accepted by our parents, Alice and Jasper. And Emmett...Emmett would be dead.

It brought me up short, cut through a little of my violent, furious anger and I felt the first of the icy slivers of guilt sliding down my spine. It was a pointless train of thought, anyway. The past was the past and could not be changed, no matter the intensity of the hindsight.

I walked the streets, the sound of my heels echoing through the space and silence, ricocheting gently off the sides of scattered buildings. A few houses, a row of shops here and there. The town was as unremarkable as any I'd seen in Washington. I was so wrapped up in my mind and the turmoil within, that I barely even caught the sounds in the air, coming from Marchants Road, a somewhat dark and unlit street adjacent to the cemetery. I paused and strained to hear; two sets of sounds, one coming from a man, the other from a woman. The woman was crying.

Part of me wanted to turn away, leave the stupid human race to it's own devices. I had my own problems, after all; my own issues. But the other half of me was stronger in it's resolve and I turned silently down the darkened street, careful not to make any noises that would indicate my approach, even to dull witted humans.

I could see well enough ahead of me to know what was happening. A man, no older than twenty five, was beating a younger woman with his fists and feet. Kicking her in the ribs and stomach, then bending down to punch her.

For a moment, I was frozen in shock at the sight before me. The poor girl was only twenty or so, her attractive features marred with freshly forming bruises and blood. She was gasping and crying, trying to cover her face and stomach as he arbitrarily kicked out, taking heaving breaths as though it were him being winded.

"Thought you were pretty fuckin' funny, didn't ya?" he scathed. "Showing off like that to everyone. Thought you were so smart, so sexy...so fuckin' pretty! Well you're not pretty anymore, are ya? Huh, Sally?" Another blow to the face and I heard the tooth crack right out of her jaw. "Who's gonna look at you now? No-one, except me! Now you'll stay with me 'cos no-one will want to see your ugly face ever again, will they? Now you _have_ to love me!"

"Please," she croaked, spitting out the tooth onto the pavement. "Please, Bobby...stop."

He pulled her up by the hair; blonde and streaked with blood. "I'll stop when I fuckin' like! Don't you think you can tell me what to do, bitch!" he yelled right in her face. She began to cry in earnest and he began to laugh, crouching down beside her. "Aww, what's the matter baby? You think you can turn on the waterworks and I'll break down and say sorry? Well you go ahead and cry, you little whore. I like it when you cry." He punched her so hard then that she passed out cold, on the sidewalk. He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans with a satisfied smirk. "You're so _pretty_ when you cry."

I didn't see red or any other colour. I didn't see anything. It was like blacking out.

Fifteen seconds later I blinked and looked down at the gore and blood covering my hands and realised, with a slow kind of understanding, that I had killed him.

I'd killed him. Ripped him limb from limb with my bare hands.

I shook myself, willing myself to get a grip on what _the hell had just happened_. The blood was still there on my hands, everywhere in fact. On the dark street pavement, there were broken bones, chunks of flesh and twitching limbs, severed from their attachments. He was in pieces and I had done that; rent him apart like a rag doll with a long since dormant vengeance in my heart. All fifteen glorious seconds.

"Oh...Jesus Christ," I choked, frozen to the spot.

I waited for someone to come across me, find me standing there like something out of a horror movie, blood splattered and wicked. My throat closed up and some form of liquid threatened to rise up from my stomach and out of my mouth.

If there had ever been any doubt that I was damned, it was forever gone now. Though I couldn't bring myself to regret the loss of such a lowlife, the blood and torn skin on my hands and clothes screamed damnation at me, made me feel like a demon. Like some monster who crept around in the darkness, in the absence of angels and indulged in that basic nature that was in all us vampires.

The smell was everywhere, surrounding me completely but it was far from attractive; instead it was hot, bittersweet odour, like overly ripe fruit sprinkled with salt. It made my stomach lurch dangerously and my knees threatened to give out completely.

They might have done so, had he had not arrived.

"Rosalie."

His voice made me look up from my hands. There he was, not six feet from me. He seemed wary, hesitant to do anything that would push me any further. Running through his mind was a steady mantra of, _'My fault, my Godamned fault, should have gotten here sooner!'_.

"Edward," I said, surprised by how calm it sounded. "I...he..."

He nodded and took a slow, obvious step towards me. "I know, Rose, I saw it. I saw everything. I'm so sorry I couldn't get here quicker. I tried to tell you to walk away, but it didn't seem to get through."

Of course, he had been the part of me that had begged me to turn around.

"I killed him," I felt compelled to point out, as if it wasn't obvious. As if I wasn't standing there covered in his lukewarm cruor. "He was...he said..."

"I know," he said again, steadily coming closer, carefully not to tread on any parts of what had previously been Bobby. " I know, Rose, I saw it all."

"I'm a monster," I breathed and wobbled a little on the spot, wondering if I was going to fall face first into the puddle of warm, quivering gore. "Look at what I've done."

"None of this is your fault," he said with deep meaning. "This man was evil, all right? Not you. You did what anyone would have done had they come across him tonight."

Laughter burned my throat. "A normal person would have called the authorities. A _normal_ person would have yelled and told him to stop. Not done _this_."

"He wasn't normal. He would have beaten her to death," he said, indicating to the poor young girl, Sally, on the ground. "And we both know it."

"I didn't even...know what I was doing until it was done," I gasped. "I couldn't even see, he could have been anyone."

"Take my hand," he instructed as he offered it. "Come on, I'll deal with everything just take my hand."

But I flinched away violently and finally stepped back, out of the surrounding circle of bloody debris. "How? How are you going to do that, Edward?" I cried. "You can't fix everything! You can't fix this and you can't fix _me_!"

"You don't need fixing!" he insisted fiercely, stepping closer, regardless of what he was stepping in. "Things like this happen all the time to our kind, you know that! It needs cleaning up, plain and simple!"

"His skin is under my fingernails," I said in a dead voice. "How are you going to fix that?"

"Soap," he said firmly. "And water. And more soap."

I closed my eyes and turned away. "I destroy everything I touch."

"You haven't destroyed me yet."

"You should leave me here, let the humans find me."

"Never."

"It's no more than I deserve."

"Let me be the judge of what you may or may not deserve. Look at me. _Look at me_, Rosalie!"

'_Come on, let me help you. Please, let me help you,' _his mind pleaded. That was what made me finally open my eyes again, look around at what I'd done. Slowly, I held out my hand to his, where it was still mid air. Mine was wet with blood when it grasped at his but he didn't recoil or pull away in disgust. He squeezed at it and used it to pull me close. Pull me into his waiting embrace.

He held me tight and I buried my face in his chest, willing the world away forever.

"It's going to be alright," he promised. "I'll make it alright."

Two hours later, it was like nothing had ever happened on that dark street by the cemetery. The pavement was clean, washed and scrubbed with industrial cleaner Edward had stolen from a nearby shopping mart. Each and every piece of the man's body was gone, buried in the cemetery in the coffin of an ancient grave, so ancient and old that no-one would find it for a good long while. He had found the young girl's ID with her address and took her home, left her unconscious on her own doorstep before he made the 911 call from a phone booth, reporting that he'd seen a man carrying a woman to that address and that she looked like she needed an ambulance.

He had saved me for last.

He took me to Lake Pleasant and because I wasn't really able to do much more than comply with his requests, he stripped off my clothes and led me by the hand into the water. He silently washed away each speck of blood with his own hands. He made sure that I was spotlessly clean before placing gentle kisses to my hands, my wrists, my arms, my shoulders, my neck and finally my lips. He had never kissed me like that; like each kiss was a promise that everything was going to be fine. That I was whole. That I was good. That I wasn't going to hell, and if I was, he was going with me. He kissed the two tears that rolled down my cheeks; caught them on his lips as though they were his to own. He held me close and promised me, without ever saying a word, that he would take care of me in the moments that I couldn't do it for myself because that was just what we did.

We had to wait until morning so he could go and buy new clothes for me to wear as the old ones had to be destroyed completely. I waited alone in the water, surrounded and secluded by the trees, until he returned with a shopping bag.

He handed me the bag and I dressed, without drying off first.

"It's over now," he said when I finished buttoning up the shirt with slow, numb fingers. "It's done."

I nodded and tried to generate a smile. "We really do have a recurring theme with water, don't we?"

He smiled back, but it was with a certain amount of sadness. "I should get back."

"What do we tell the others?" I asked quietly and focused on his mind which was tossing an idea back and forth with tentative hesitation.

"You should tell Emmett," he said after a moment. "You should tell him everything."

"No."

"Yes, you have to."

"Why? So he can be even more revolted by the sight of me? So he can hate me even more?" I asked, wincing at how desperate it sounded. "No. He'll think I'm a...a monster. If he already doesn't."

Edward shook his head. "He feels disconnected, Rose. Like he's cut out of your life. This will be a way back in for him."

"Don't ask me to do this," I begged. "I can't. He won't understand why!"

"Then tell him," was Edward's implacable answer. "After all we've done to him, Rose, surely we owe him this much. He can handle it. He can handle more than either of us give him credit for. Plus...how do you think he's going to react if we go back together; damp, wearing different clothes and smelling of lake water?"

He was right, of course. "But I...I don't want him to see that side of me," I said under my breath. "He's my link to everything perfect and light and...pure."

"But that's not all of who you are," he pointed out. "You're only giving him access to half of who you are and he's intelligent enough to know that. Open up a little to him. That's all he wants."

"And what if I can't do that?" I whispered.

"Then you're making a decision you'll have to live with. A decision that we will all have to live with, forever." He sighed and ran a hand through his almost dry hair. "I have to get back, she'll be awake soon," he told me as if that explained everything. "Try for me, Rosalie. Please try."

He kissed me once more; nothing but a soft possessive press of his lips to mine before he was gone, moving away swiftly to go back to his beloved. The light of his life, the sunlight that illuminated his world. I wondered if one day Bella Swan would begin to look at Edward and question his love for her, as Emmett was doing to me. I wondered if she would look, in a hundred years or so, from myself to Edward and back again and finally put two and two together, as Emmett was always so close to doing these days. Would she scream and demand the truth, both dreading and desperate for it at the same time? Would they fight, would he lie to her and reassure her that everything was fine?

Funny, how the thing I did _not_ wonder about was whether or not, in a hundred years time, Edward and I would still be caught up in the phenomenon that bound us.

* * *

_-November 11__th__, 1971-_

_At the beginning of my life, there had been 1.8 billion people alive on the planet. Though there was no census then during the 20's, I researched it in later years and was shocked to see such a small number staring at me from only fifty years ago. Now, there were 3.7 billion; the rate of expansion and growth sent a chill down my spine I couldn't shake for a while. There were too many of them, reproducing too fast and living too long. It was not the first time I had thought of humans as an entirely separate species from myself and my family, but it was the first time I felt threatened by them in general. Looking at the two different numbers and the short amount of years in between, I felt mildly horrified. Afraid. I would never again think of human beings as my own species; they would become _'Them'_ and forever remain so. _

"_Hey," came a soft voice from behind me. Emmett had come quietly into the conservatory though I'd had sensed his approach a minute ago. He had something in his hands, something wrapped in paper. "Stargazing?"_

_I looked down from the sky where I'd been staring through the glass ceiling for the last hour. "Not really," I said and gave him a smile which froze when I saw the small, square box. "What's that?"_

_He bit his bottom lip. "It's a...present?"_

_I crossed my arms resolutely over my chest. "For who?"_

"_For the _other _woman I love who's birthday it is today," he deadpanned with an impressive eye-roll. "Come on, babe, don't be a spoilsport. You've never let me get you a present before!"_

"_And you thought that 1971 would be different?" I asked. _

"_Maybe. Can't you just say thank you and open it?" he tried, offering me the small box. I stared at it long and hard; it was poorly wrapped, with too much tape, which meant he had wrapped it himself and not employed the assistance of Alice. Perhaps it was that fact in itself that made me change my mind. _

"_Alright, I'll open it this one time, but you have to promise me not to get me any more, ever, OK?"_

_He grinned as though he had achieved some immeasurably difficult task. "Absolutely, here you go."_

_I took it from him and tore off the shoddily arranged paper which revealed a small black leather box that was only ever meant to contain jewellery. With slightly trembling fingers, I opened it to reveal a ring. There was a diamond in the centre; it sparkled and shone even in the grim lack of light; small delicate rubies surrounded it and lined the rest of the gold band. I couldn't stop staring at it until Emmett coughed expectantly. _

"_You like it?" he asked, nervously. _

_I looked up at him. "We never...we said no rings," I said and instantly cursed myself for such insensitivity. Before his face could register the disappointment, I hastened to add, "I mean, I'm never taking it off again as long as I live and I don't think I've ever seen anything more perfect and beautiful but...why now, baby?"_

_He let out a shaky sigh of relief and moved closer, stroking the back of his hand down my face. "When we agreed to the whole 'No Rings' policy, I was thinking of you. I was thinking of that bastard and the fact that he'd given you a ring once and I didn't there to be any...bad memories. You didn't seem to want a ring and I wasn't going to push."_

_I plucked the beautiful object from it's plush casing and slid it on my wedding finger where it fitted perfectly. "And now?"_

_He took the hand the ring now sat upon and kissed it firmly. "Now, I'm hoping that's enough in the past that you can look down at this ring and never feel guilt, never feel anything but the love I have for you."_

"_Oh, Em," I said, as I kissed him. "I love you so much."_

"_I love you, Rosalie Hale. Promise me, Rose, you'll never take it off?"_

"_Just so long as you understand, this is the last birthday gift I ever want to receive from anyone ever again, OK, baby?" I asked, gently rubbing my nose against his. He nodded and kissed me again, pulling me flush to his body with a soft groan. "I'll never take it off, I swear."_

_I couldn't help but feel the ring there, couldn't help but think of what it meant. It didn't remind me of Royce; it didn't bring to mind the betrayal or the violation that had occurred while his ring had been on my hand. It made me think of how that ring had come from Emmett, bonded me to Emmett in a way we hadn't been bonded before if only in the smallest of ways. _

_That small glittering object would forever sit there on my hand, no matter how many times I accidentally snapped the band; it would be fixed. It represented so much, that tiny thing. Made Emmett so ridiculously happy to see it everyday for the next thirty four years and I would not lose it once._

_Until April 21__st__ 2006, when it would come off while I tore a man to pieces. _

* * *

I couldn't bear to go back too the house, so instead I went to a phone booth, cracked open the bottom of the machine where some coins collected and most rolled away. I used one to call Emmett's cell. It rang only once before he answered, voice fractured with concern.

"Rose?"

I blinked, surprised. "How did you know it was me?"

He let out a breath that rattled down the receiver. "Christ, I was worried!" he snapped. "Where the hell have you been? I had a bad feeling!"

That was almost funny enough to make me want to laugh. "Look, I'm...I need you to meet me somewhere. Can you do that? Please."

He hesitated, obviously trying to figure out what was happening and why I was calling from an unknown number, asking him to meet me somewhere.

"Where?" he asked, finally.

"Burnt Mountain Road, Sappho. North on the 101."

"I'll be there in five minutes," he said.

"No, bring the Jeep," I asked and put in another quarter from where they had scattered and rolled on the tray beneath the machine. "Please?"

He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Fifteen minutes then."

It was more like ten minutes, but still it felt like hours. I sat on the side of the road, knees hunched together, waiting for the familiar screech of tyres. I replayed how I could tell him what had happened, what to leave out, what to embellish. I could turn the story into something completely different if I so desired; I could tell him that the man had attacked me, that he'd tried to hurt me and so I'd killed him to defend myself. He would believe that without question and whatever animosity lay between us would vanish in the guilt he would feel at not having been there to protect me.

By the time the car pulled up, I was certain in my plan as to what to tell him. Emmett's Jeep looked wonderfully familiar and reminded me of all the times we had spent together in it, driving anywhere and nowhere just to be alone. He pulled up a few feet away and turned off the engine; he was out the door in a second and the worry was clearly drawn all over his face, burned into his eyes.

He gave me a once over, discerned that I hadn't been harmed in any way but then he stopped dead; taking in my change of clothes, the scent of the lake water. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"What's going on?" he asked.

My perfectly formed lie was ready to roll right off my tongue, but then for some reason I said, straight out of the blue, "I killed a man."

He blanched. "What?"

"Last night. I murdered him. Tore him apart."

"You what? But...why? What happened?" he asked, wide eyed and frozen to the spot.

"He was beating up a young girl. Hitting her over and over again. He said...something. It was too much."

He put a hand to his eyes, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ, Rosalie! What the hell are you talking about?"

"I ripped him apart until he was a puddle of flesh and broken bones. Then I cleaned up the mess, buried it in a cemetery and cleaned myself off, got new clothes so I could destroy the old ones. I killed him."

He took three steps towards me about to touch me, but stopped as though he thought better of it. "Why did you kill him, Rosalie?" he asked, eyes burning down into me. "Tell me."

"I will. I'm going to tell you everything. Everything I should have told you, but didn't want to because it upsets you and I hate to see you upset. I want to you see all of me, Emmett, so that if you do leave me it's for the right reasons. And if that's _why_ you leave me, then I have no-one to blame but myself."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and those beautiful eyes looked wounded. "I won't leave you."

I managed a shaky laugh. "Famous last words?"

He was unswervingly solemn when he replied, "No. I don't care how terrible you think you are underneath, I would never leave you. I wouldn't know how."

I nodded twice and ignored my hands as they twisted and writhed hard enough to split the skin. This was going to be bad and I should take off my ring before I snapped the...

It was gone. I looked down at my hand, held it out extended like I was showing off my beautiful ring only it wasn't there. My hand was naked, bare and the ring that had sat for so many years on my wedding finger was gone.

Emmett's eyes followed where my open mouthed stare was directed. "Where's your ring?" he asked very quietly.

My mind worked frantically to produce an answer and when it succeeded, I turned cold. "Oh Christ!" I gasped, feeling like the bottom had dropped out of my stomach. "The body...the man..."

"You lost it?" Emmett asked, too quiet to be anything but hurt.

I slammed my eyes shut. "Goddamnit!" I swore furiously. "I haven't lost it, it's where I buried that bastard in little bits and pieces!"

Emmett shook his head. "Which is where?"

"The cemetery. Jesus Christ, I _cannot_ be this cursed!"

He sighed. "It's only a ring, Rosalie. We can replace it."

That did it. Some long rotted wall of defences that prevented me from seeing the genuine damage I was doing to this beautiful man, crashed down spectacularly and I could see clearly and quite glaringly how much I had ground him down. It took my breath away, resounded throughout my body like a slap and I was left reeling for a good five seconds before he looked at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Rose?" he asked tentatively. "Rosalie?"

"No," I said, voice trembling. "This has to stop. Right now."

He gave me a look up and down as though I was possibly severely compromised.

"Uh, what?"

"This," I said, indicating between us. "This can't go on any more."

He blinked and shook his head. "Uhh...OK?"

"No, it's not OK!" I yelled. "It's very far from OK! I'm not some fragile little Princess you have to protect and martyr yourself for! I'm a bitch! A selfish, arrogant bitch and I can't take you standing there sighing and saying we'll get another ring! You should be furious! You should be angry and yell and _tell_ _me_ that I'm a bitch because I know I am!"

"What the hell? I'm not going to do that!" he yelped, shooting me a look that indicated he was considering getting back in the Jeep and leaving me to rant at thin air.

"Why not? You think I don't know what a bitch I am to you? I do, I know it all too well! I'm a terrible person, Emmett, and not in the way that requires you to hold me while I sob and let it all out! I'm your wife and I love you and I am _not _a good person, alright?"

He had his hand over his face at this point, shaking it back and forth slightly.

"Have you lost your mind?" he sighed, muffled by his shielding hand.

"Good! That's good! Ask me that, shout it! Don't stand there and suffer my bullshit because you love me and I'm all delicate and unfortunate and perfect..."

His head snapped up, an incredulous glare on his face. "You are _hardly_ perfect!"

"Oh really?" I shot right back.

"Yes, really! You're a spoilt, moody brat - no, actually you're right – moody _bitch_ who throws a tantrum when she can't get what she wants and becomes manically depressed when she does! You are not perfect, at all! And you...you lost the _ring_!"

I waited for his words to sink in; it took about eight seconds. It was strange, seeing colour flood his face like that again; a wonderful indication of a recently absent passion.

He shot me a look. "That was low."

I shrugged unrepentantly. "Mustn't let things build up, honey."

"We are so not done here," he warned.

"I should hope not," I told him. "Because I am _far_ better at arguing than this."

"So, what are we going to do now?"

A fractional pause. "What do you want to do?"

"It really is only a ring, Rose. I'm not angry, just..."

I started forward and grabbed him by the sleeve, stopping him from getting back into the car. "No!" I insisted wildly, angry that he couldn't see what I was trying to say. "It is not only a ring, Emmett! You gave me that and I swore never to take it off!"

"You didn't _take_ it off, it _came_ off while you were eviscerating some guy."

"I'm sorry," I breathed, hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."

He stared at me then, eyes delving so deep inside me that I was afraid he would see everything, see too much and then that would that. But after a few seconds the intensity of his stare eased off a little and he seemed to relax; some of that lovely kindness resurfacing once more.

"I know you are," he said gently. "We'll find the ring, alright? C'mon, let's go dig up Forks."

The car journey was strange. It wasn't quite awkward, but it certainly wasn't relaxed. Maybe because we were going to dig up and rifle through bloody pieces of a dismembered wife beater to find my wedding ring. But I doubted it, mostly. The aim of our journey wasn't as disturbing as it should have been, more of a chore really. It was more the fact that I wasn't sure where I stood with Emmett. He was being so...guarded.

"So," I said after three minutes in the Jeep. "How was your night?"

He chuckled. "It could have been better. Esme and Alice roped me into planning some graduation celebration for Bella and then we watched _Terms of Endearment_. Does the Geneva Convention mean nothing to vampires?"

I laughed despite myself and managed a small but genuine smile. I moved closer to him as he drove, leaning my head against his shoulder and he moved to put his arm around me. Such a familiar gesture, and yet I hadn't been one hundred percent certain he would even let me near him. It was a powerful relief when he did.

"So, why did you kill him?" he asked, softly.

I sighed and decided to just say it, not try to put any kind of spin on it. "When Royce King had me pinned to the ground, he said something to me." I felt Emmett stiffen, but he didn't ask me to stop so I went on. "He told me I was pretty when I cried. I remembered it for years after that, it stayed with me ever since." Another deep breath. "When that guy was beating his girlfriend last night, he said that to her. The exact same thing. I just _lost it_. I didn't even know what I was doing until it was done. He's in little bits and piece, Em. Christ, no wonder the ring came off – I literally tore him apart with my bare hands."

"We'll find it," he promised, his arm tightening around me just a little. "Thank you for telling me."

There was a small bout of silence before I decided to speak again. "This is my fault," I said in a low voice. "All of this is my fault. I wanted it to be your fault so badly, but it's just not. I've pushed you away and I don't even know why. Sometimes I feel like I'm poison and you're so pure and lovely and I'm tainting you."

"Which is crap," he interjected swiftly. "I take offence at being called pure and lovely, both of which are highly inaccurate to describe me in my manly state of awesomeness and also, you're full of it if you think for one minute that you're poison."

"Maybe you'd be happier with someone nice," I pouted, glumly, feeling secure and somewhat childish in his embrace. "Someone like Bella."

He let out a snort. "Oh yeah, I can really see the fireworks going off there. Don't get me wrong, she's a nice girl and all but I can't think of a more accurate definition for the phrase _'Wet Weekend'_." I giggled softly and he continued. "She looks like she's constipated most of the time, she can barely string together a sentence and she's too..._nice_. I like my women haughty, high maintenance and hard work, thank you very much."

I smiled into the sleeve of his massive forearm. "What about you?" he asked. "Would you be happier with someone else? Edward, maybe?"

"Oh, Emmett..." I said, going to pull away but he held me tightly in place.

"No, look, I'm not saying it to be mean or start a fight. I'm really askin', babe. Really." He sounded so calm, so innocent almost. "'Cos you can be honest and tell me, Rose. I want you to be honest."

"Why do you keep asking me this? How many times can I tell you that you're my man and no-one else has ever come close to how I feel for you?"

"I'm asking one last time, baby. Would you be happier with him?"

"I could never be _happy_ with Edward. Never. You're it for me, Em. Forever. Do you hear me? Do you understand that?"

"I hear you," he said calmly. "Do you ever think about what it would be like if you two had stayed together?"

"Sometimes," I told him. "But it's always an unmitigated disaster scenario, mainly because I might not have found you."

"Do you feel a bond between you?" he asked very quietly.

"A sibling bond, maybe. Sometimes I feel like we're the screw-ups of the family. I love him, I honestly do, but it's because he's my brother. There's nothing sexual there, I can promise you that. Urgh, it'd be like incest."

"Sometimes it seems like there's something...there," he said very quietly. "Something beneath the veil."

"I don't know about that. Maybe it's mortification at the recollection of our teen years. Mostly I suspect it's the hostility."

His hand stroked idly down my arm as he said, "OK, babe. Thanks for being honest. I wish we'd had this conversation a month ago, y'know?"

I laughed. "Maybe we should schedule a once a month meeting?"

"Would it have to involve body parts and a missing ring?"

"Only if it were gravely necessary."

He kissed my hair and continued to drive one handed the entire journey, absentmindedly stroking my shoulder or arm while I curled into his side like a contented cat. It was incredibly comforting to be this close to him again, especially after everything that had occurred over the past few weeks. I was filled with a strange kind of shaky relief, like I had narrowly avoided some terrible collision that might have killed me.

It began to rain as we reached the cemetery, thankfully ensuring we wouldn't have too much of an audience while we effective carried out our grave-robbing activities. The body was buried far south of the main plots, near an old oak tree by some ancient, weathered gravestones that had seen better days. The parts were in trash bags, it had been the only way to move them. Edward had scooped the mess up into the bags with his own hands, made sure every last piece of skin and matter had been safely bagged up. Then he'd dug up an old grave, with an 18th century date on the gravestone, and dropped the bags into the rotted coffin on top of the bones of some poor soul who was now forced to share their resting place with such scum.

I stopped, mid step in the rain and realised I didn't know which grave it was. I hadn't seen the name on the stone, hadn't been in any frame of mind to pay attention. I let my eyes go unfocused for a second and turned my attention inward.

'_Edward_,'I called insistently. _'Edward, what was the name on the grave?'_

His answer was only fractionally considered before he gave it.

'_Arnold Pheeny. It's by a large oak tree to the south of the main gate. Sorry about the ring, I didn't know.'_

'_Don't worry. Thanks for everything.'_

I felt him smile. _'I told you.'_

'_Yes, you are the King of all that is wise in the world.'_

'_Damn straight. I'm pretty sure you owe me big time for fixing your marriage, Miss Hale.'_

"Rose?"

Emmett pulled me back to reality with a resounding SNAP! I blinked and looked around, re-establishing my place in the universe, the world, Forks and this particular cemetery.

"I was trying to remember where the plot is. I think it's to the south of the gate, by a big oak tree," I said and we walked in that direction through the torrential rain. My hair was already a wreck so a little more water wasn't going to make any different, not that I cared what I looked like in the slightest just then.

"The name on the grave is Arnold Pheeny," I said as we drew closer. I could see which one it was now, the earth was fresh and disturbed. I was suddenly intensely grateful for the rain which was steadily removing any existing traces of Edward's scent from the area.

"You put him in a grave?" Emmett asked, looking back at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. Does that upset you?"

He shrugged and we continued to trudge through the wet grass. "Not really, just good thinking I guess."

"Not just a pretty face," I informed him with a wry smile.

"Oh I know that," he chuckled. "Is this it?" he asked, stopping right in front of the grave.

"This is the one."

He gave made a slightly lopsided grin and I completely ignored who it so reminded me of. "Well, shall we dig in?"

* * *

As it turned out, digging up a dismembered human and rifling through his remains was a highlight of our marriage for the last few months. What should have been a sombre procedure, undertaken with grim dignity and regret evolved very quickly into something much akin to enjoyable 'Quality Time'. Strange though it was, there was a sense of togetherness that had been absent for some time. I was starting to understand Edward's advice now; Emmett didn't necessarily require some massive declaration of love, he just needed to be involved in my life, in the things I would usually try to protect him from. Things like sifting through bone and flesh for a wedding ring that had come off during a vaguely psychotic episode.

It should have marked the insanity of the situation; this was emphatically _not_ what normal couples did together. Normal couples played scrabble or knitted quilts or cooked outdoors; well, whatever they did...it most certainly wasn't _this_. Indeed, the madness of it was quite obvious to me, but it didn't matter in the slightest. We weren't a normal couple, were never going to be normal and I had learned many decades ago to stop attempting such an impossible and ultimately unsatisfactory goal. Normal wasn't part of our lives, was never going to be. If there was one thing I'd learned, it was to take happiness wherever it could be found.

And if that meant grave robbing, then so be it.

"Y'know," Emmett said after a few more minutes of carefully scrutinising little bits and pieces of the dead man for the ring. "I'm concerned."

I sighed and looked up from the puddle of good I'd been scanning. "About?"

"That I'm not as freaked out as I should be," he said with a tiny little smile.

"We _are_ freaks. It's hard to freak out the freaks."

"But this is pretty macabre even for us."

"Ooh, big words, baby?" I said with a salacious wink. "You know how I love it when you've been reading the dictionary."

"It's gonna be your main pastime unless you check the attitude, brat," he teased.

"Brat, huh? New term of endearment? Better than bitch, I guess."

"I'll save it for when we're alone," he replied with a wink of his own and I had to laugh. Sometimes he was just so perfect that even I couldn't withstand his charm; the beautiful measure of happiness he brought about within me, so thoughtlessly and without manipulation.

It almost, _almost_, rang true.

A few more minutes of rifling through the slowly rotting death around us and I finally located the ring. There was a great sense of satisfaction accompanying my discovery; as though I had done something far greater in the scheme of things than simply find a ring.

"Nicely done," he said and let out a sigh, looking around at the debris. "I suppose we have to clean this up, huh?"

"You don't have to do it," I pointed out, feeling guilty. His hands and arms were covered in blood, almost as much as I had been when I'd first killed the human. "I can do it if you want to go get cleaned up."

His eyes caught mine, something sincere and serious making me nervous all of a sudden.

"Rosalie," he said softly, under his breath. "I want to help clean this up. Do you understand me? I don't care if it's messy or upsetting or...or whatever! I _want_ to be here with you, knee deep in blood and guts. OK?"

I bit my lip, trying not to answer immediately. It wasn't alright. It wasn't alright at all; not the massive double entendre he was laying on me. A part of me violently raged against the idea of letting him anywhere near what he was begging to be near to. But yet I knew this was going to happen, at least to the controlled extent I would allow. I could make that sacrifice, couldn't I? After all he had done for me, this was nothing.

The smile wasn't precisely natural, but it came about easily enough.

"Yes," I said, placing the ring, unclean though it was, back on my finger. "Alright then."

It came as no shock that everyone already knew what had happened by the time we'd arrived back at the house. I felt stupid and small suddenly, like an attention seeking teenager who was suddenly faced with a little too much attention. The whole family, including Edward, was in the living foyer of the house waiting for me. Carlisle, in particular, looked fraught a kind of tension that came only when he was conflicted.

Out of instinct, I latched onto Edward's mind for some sense of what to expect. Strange, to recall times when I'd been able to walk into something like that completely blind, with no idea of what was coming and face it anyway. I ignored that nasty niggling feeling of discomfort and went the easy route. What I saw was not entirely reassuring, but not as bad as it could have been, given the extreme circumstances.

"Rosalie, darling," Esme said, drawing me into a tight hug. I was pleased that my Mom, at least, didn't seem to care much that I had just committed murder. "Are you alright?"

I pulled away enough to smile and tell her I was fine, that I was sorry and that everything was taken care of. In the peripheral of my mind, I sensed Edward was closely monitoring Jasper's thoughts. Jasper was aware of it and therefore being very careful.

"It's all my fault," Alice said, sounding genuinely remorseful; I shook myself a little and tried to focus. "I should have seen it sooner. It didn't even come to me until the last minute and then I couldn't see where or much of anything, it was so dark. I'm so sorry, Rose."

It was the first time in a while since she'd looked at me like that; with so much love and sympathy. She looked like my sister again; the sister I loved and very much missed.

Carlisle said, "Hindsight is of little value to us now. We have to decide what to do now."

Emmett frowned. "Why? It's all taken care of, like she said." I thought for a moment, just for one tiny moment, that his eyes had flickered to Edward then, but I must have imagined it and Edward didn't seem to pick up on it, distracted as he was.

Carlisle let out a sigh and pushed away from the wall where he had been leaning. "Regardless, the procedure is always the same for us after an... incident."

And I saw the cause of Edward's worry. "What about Bella?" I asked without hesitation. "Bella's just going to come along with us is she? Or are we going to leave her behind again? That plan worked so fantastically well last time."

Carlisle seemed to have misplaced his usual calming demeanour. "It is too much of a risk, Rosalie. We have only to be linked to this singular transgression and it will place all of us in an extremely untenable position. Drawing attention to ourselves is the _last_ thing we do and you know that." That slightly British tone was present causing him to pronounce each word with a crisp perfection; it meant he wasn't happy.

Jasper, who had been quiet until now, said, "We could contain any leaks. We could monitor the situation, stay ready and monitor it carefully."

"I won't leave Bella," Edward stated unnecessarily and everyone rolled their eyes.

"Yes, thank you for establishing the obvious, Edward," Alice sighed.

"Then there is nothing to discuss," he said, almost dismissively and I was grateful for his attempt to disperse the issue entirely. "As Emmett said, it's taken care of."

"There _is_ something to discuss," Carlisle insisted, with a rarely employed tone of parental authority. "I for one would like to hear why this has happened. Rosalie?"

I swallowed. "Alice hasn't told you?"

"I didn't see much," she admitted, gazing off distantly. "I really must start meditating again. My focus is all askew."

With a frustrated sigh, I began to explain. "I was walking when I came across a man and young woman in some kind of...altercation. He was beating her, brutally. When she was unconscious, he continued to hurt her. I thought he might kill her so I...I stepped in. It got out of hand."

Emmett said nothing of what I had omitted and I knew I hadn't fooled Jasper in the slightest. He was watching me intently, listening to everything I was saying and monitoring my emotions. Later, we would have words; I was certain of it. Edward picked up on that instantly and began his own string of thoughts which immediately clouded my own. I forgot what I was saying, what I was supposed to be telling everyone. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to regain composure.

"Rose?" Emmett asked, the very picture of concern. "You OK?"

"Yeah," I said, getting back on track. "So, that's what happened. Then I called Emmett, had him come and get me and here we are."

Esme was all sympathy and forgiveness. "Oh, darling," she said. "Well, that's hardly a terrible deed, is it? Is it, Carlisle?"

And for one moment, one horrible dizzying moment, I thought Carlisle was about to disagree and condemn me for my actions, though I knew he should. But then he smiled, small and grim as it was. "No. I suppose not. Well, we shall have to keep a very close eye on the situation. Jasper, Edward – I trust you can manage that?"

"Absolutely," Jasper said while Edward just nodded, miles away in thoughts I forced myself not to dip too deeply into. "Does this resolve the issue for now?"

"In part," Carlisle said with a slight nod. "Though I would like to speak to Rosalie alone for a few minutes, if that's alright."

Everyone filtered out of the room, leaving me alone with a nasty feeling of what was to come. Though I had never been remotely afraid of Carlisle in my life, I sometimes came to dread the things he might say.

Once everyone was away, occupying themselves with various activities, Carlisle came closer and leant against the wall beside me.

"So," he said gently. "Would you like to tell me or would you prefer I ask?"

Tight lipped, I shook my head. He waited and I struggled to find the words.

"It must be written that as one corner of your life begins to stabilise, the other three corners come crashing down spectacularly." I sounded glum, to even my own ears.

"Emmett," he said simply.

"It's a rough patch, I suppose," I tried to say with as little inflection as possible. "We'll work it out, we always do."

He was avoiding my eye line, staring ahead as I was when he said, "You know, one of my favourite things in this life is arguing with Esme."

"What? You never argue!" I said, chancing a quick look. He seemed neutral enough, but I could tell there was a much deeper meaning approaching the subtext and it was approaching fast.

He half smiled. "Indeed, we do. Perhaps not with all the fiery vengeance of hell, as with which you are familiar, but we do encounter conflicts. I so enjoy them."

Mystified, I asked, "Why?"

"Because I learn a little bit more about her and myself each time. Because there should always be confrontation and challenge. Love is a great many things, but it should never be easy."

"And if it is?"

He laughed softly. "Rose, I do not tell you this as a means of instruction for your life. I am saying that sometimes in life, people are supposed to crash together. Sometimes bruises are inevitable and pain is a constant when we love as much as we do."

He meant to speak of Emmett, I knew that. He was reassuring me that my recent and increasing conflict with Emmett was normal and a sign that our passion survived and burned between us still. Only I could not force Emmett into the picture he was generating. Could not shove my beloved husband into that outline, that so belonged to another.

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Eternity is a difficult concept to fully grasp, believe me, and the meaning it bears upon relationships is even more complicated but I have no doubt that your marriage can withstand it, my dearest Rose. No doubt," he said, nudging me with his shoulder.

I smiled and hugged him, accepting his well intended advice although it barely succeeded in penetrating the wall of my writhing thoughts. By the time I had called to Edward, in that silent way, I had almost forgotten what his advice had been. All except for one part.

* * *

The night was melting away rapidly by the time Edward found me outside in the yard, leaning in the shadows against the tree we had once almost destroyed. I found myself somewhat attached to that tree; there were almost imaginary traces of our scent upon the rough, torn bark and it leaned oddly, where once two immortals had pushed against it. It was strange how some people placed emphasis on houses; the walls and what they had bore witness to. I felt more connected to the tree than to the house behind me. It was _our_ tree, as though we had bled into it somehow and it felt reassuring to be back in the darkness, near to it once more.

"Good morning, Miss Hale," he breathed, suddenly beside me, lips just shy of brushing the contour of my neck. My breath caught in the hollow of my throat just fractionally and I turned my head a little to the left to see him. Even bathed in the ebbing darkness, he was painfully beautiful. All shadows and varying shades of grey.

"I wanted to see you," I whispered, unnecessarily. He didn't point out that he already knew that, instead he bent down just a little and his nose brushed mine. "To thank you."

"You have nothing to thank me for," he practically purred, hands running up and down the sides of my arms, fingers dragging just a little too much. "As you are well aware."

"You were right. About Emmett," I went on, compelled to attempt verbal conversation even though my head was spinning.

"It'll be daylight soon," he informed me softly; those sinful lips shaping the words that made my stagnant heart contract painfully, because there was never enough time. Never enough night.

Because of it, my words came out rushed. "I needed you here, needed you close to me..."

That was as far as I got before he let out a possessive growl and pulled me flush against him, our mouths crashing in a way that sent sonic shockwaves of heat through me, smashing away the cobwebs of the last few weeks. Everything I was going to say died in my throat as the world tilted mercilessly. The kiss was electric fire and shocking in it's intensity; starkly contrasted with the gentleness he had seemed bound by during those last weeks. There was wildness, born of fierce longing, in every particle of his being and I wasn't surprised that it took no longer than a second to effectively contaminate me completely.

The immediate desperation to have _more_ contact, _more_ heat and just..._more_ was a terrible ache, echoing in the emptiness we were constantly struggling to fill, rarely ever fully succeeding. He was lightheaded, I could feel it, and when his legs threatened to give out, I turned us and pushed him against that tree, holding him up, never once breaking the kiss. He groaned into my mouth, hands coming up to my face to bring me closer, as if there was even a chance I might resist him.

I lost track of time, lost track of whereabouts we were on the progress scale of things, but I could feel the moment when that need for _more_ turned furious. I felt that need burning through me and knew when I slipped into his mind almost completely; leaving behind only the most basic of instincts and motor functions, driven by need and desire.

The transition was astounding; we had never attempted this before in such a way, and Edward had been particularly insistent that we should not try. I'd wondered why, at the time - what could he have known that I did not?

It became clear very quickly.

Distantly, I heard him suck in a whooshing breath. It was as though hearing it through a wall, though. I was inside his mind and the feeling of it was beyond words. I could no longer distinguish between him and myself. Who was Rosalie and who was Edward? It made no difference. I had no body that I could feel or control; the world around me had vanished almost completely and all I could feel and see was the thrumming pulse of connection that _was us_.

And I forgot everything. I forgot my name, the names of everyone. Facts, dates, time, what planet in what universe I was. There was only _this_ and if I'd had a body, it would have exploded by now. We were energy; pure, undiluted energy and it was _finally_ enough to shrug off the bodies and the bones and the lives outside of this...

_We are one. We have always been one. One and the same, split and now joined. _

And then there was a shocking amount of cold; like a cascade of ice water dousing a fire. The light crashed into darkness and the connection snapped hard enough to actually hurt me. When I opened my eyes, remembering that I had eyes, I was dazed and momentarily confused. I looked around and saw only darkness. Then tiny pinpricks of light formed.

The stars. I was on my back lying on the ground.

I turned next to me and lying besides me, very out of breath, was Edward.

"Wh-what...?" I managed, voice rough.

He shook his head and I could see that his lips were shiny and full. I felt like a magnet, furious at being held back from my polar attractor. My north. Why had he pushed me away?

I tried again. "What's wrong?"

"This...has to stop, Rose," he gasped, raggedly.

With effort, I pushed myself up on my elbows.

"_What?_"

He looked cross for a moment. "Not _this_," he snapped, pulling himself to a sitting position "Christ, I don't think this will ever stop. No, I mean...I mean this." He reached over and put his index finger to my temple.

'_I mean this,'_ he said inside my mind and just the feel of him there made me shiver.

I tried to regain my equilibrium which had been shattered apart in a matter of seconds.

"I think," he went on. "We need to find a way to...put some kind of block in place," he said breathlessly as he righted himself. I was surprised to see his belt was undone as were his bottom three shirt buttons. He righted them with trembling fingers.

"Why?"

"Because of what's happening."

Impatient, I snapped, "And what exactly _is_ happening?"

I watched in helpless fascination as his jaw worked and the lump in his throat rose and fell once. "This is what's happening, Rosalie. What I warned you would happen if you let it. We're...we're bleeding into one another."

I scoffed at that, managing to push up onto my knees. "And what's new there?"

"So tell me you're completely fine with it. That you feel entirely like yourself," he challenged, pushing himself upright and away from the tree.

Furious, I wanted to storm away and leave him there, ridiculously philosophical and noble. But I couldn't leave; I was still the magnet, caught in the field of attraction with nowhere to go unless forcibly removed.

"It's just...the next step," I said in a voice that didn't sound like my own. "It's what has to happen next."

"Jasper was right," he said, shaking his head. "We're going to disappear into one another."

I worked hard to suppress the angry desire to demand what was so wrong with that. He was in a better frame of mind than I was then. He would cite family and Emmett and Bella and I would be made to be the selfish one again.

"He thinks it's already happening," he added, softer this time like he was afraid of pushing me too far. "That your loss of control is directly related to this."

I slammed my eyes shut tight. "I should have let him beat her to death? Waited in the shadows for some non-existent God to intercede and send an angel to rescue her?"

"I don't care in the slightest that he's dead," he was quick to state. "I'd have probably done the same, but..."

"But what? You'd have done something a little different, a little better? Edward Cullen and his perfect sense of right and wrong; he'd have rendered the bastard unconscious. He wouldn't have killed him, bloodied his perfect hands with the blood of someone like that!"

Something flashed through his eyes; something dark. His hand shot out like lightning and grabbed my wrist, yanking me back to him.

"Is that what you think of me? Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to that _filth_ Royce King? The things I desperately wanted to do, the ways I wanted to do them and the mess I intended to make...you think I have any sense of right and wrong when it comes to you? I would watch this world burn with you just to see it reflected in your eyes! There is goodness where you point and say it is. There is only a God when you believe!" He took a strangled breath as though the words had come out without his permission. "There are no angels, Rose. No rescuers, no guardians. And in the absence of such we find ourselves wandering a dark and unlit path. Things happen in the darkness sometimes; things that shouldn't happen, but they do."

"We are those things," I told him, wanting to look away but finding myself unable to. "We are the things that exist in the absence of angels!"

He frowned at that. "You're just upset; come on, Rose, this isn't like you!"

And then I was hit with the unexpected enormity of that because...he was right. It wasn't like me. It wasn't like me at all.

It was like _him_.

Edward was the one who would mope and brood about the death of a human, even one such as he. _Edward_ was the one who would insist upon shouldering the guilt for what could probably be interpreted as a good deed, if only a very clinical basis.

The Rosalie of ten years ago wouldn't have cared. Scratch that; the Rosalie of _one_ year ago wouldn't have cared. She would have washed her hands of the blood and carried on with her life.

It wasn't like me to wax poetic about angels and God and tangled webs of existentialist angst.

That was Edward.

Oh God, Jasper had been right all along. It was happening.

'_I'm afraid that you're going to get lost inside each other and never come back.'_

His warning, the day of that argument between us. And then of course, I remembered the psychic's dire warning.

'_That soul is going to break free soon and the two halves will unite, permanently.'_

An unpleasant child ran down my spine and I realised Edward had followed my train of thought. He looked similarly disturbed, only as though he had been expecting it.

"It's the story of our life, Rose," he said quietly. "We need the boundaries. Emmett, Bella, the family...and now we need to build a new one."

My throat was tight and all I wanted to say was that I didn't want that. I was sick of boundaries and obligations and half measures and the constant restraint. I felt tired in my immortal body and the idea of building _more_ barriers between us – especially when it had failed so spectacularly last time – was filling me with dread.

But I didn't say that.

I wanted to demand when the need for barriers and restraint would finally come to an end; ask him when the time would come when we would be free of our family, our obligations. I wanted to make him promise me that someday, even if it was hundreds of years away, we would have that. We would leave this behind and finally_ be what we were meant to be. _

But I didn't say that.

What I said was, "You're right."

He pressed his lips to mine; barely even a kiss, as chaste as it was, but I felt it for what it was. An apology. I felt his sadness and fiercely reached out to soothe it, knowing it would be one of the last times I would be able to do so. He didn't want to do this either, and maybe that was why it had not worked before. Perhaps that was why Jasper's attempts had failed, why I had not been able to keep him out of my mind on that terrible day in March.

Voice a little cracked, he whispered against my mouth, "Not time, love or obligation."

And that was enough for me to pull away and go off in search of Jasper.

* * *

Life was made of big moments. That's what people said; huge, life altering moments that transform everything. I'd heard people say it; movies, books. Some random piece of thoughtless philosophy from the man who thought he knew everything because he had the most money in the room. A car crash. Proposing marriage. Giving birth. Losing everything. Winning money. Discovering betrayal. Death. Birth.

Privately, I had a different theory. One that applied to us as immortals anyway.

To me, it was the smallest moments bearing such a seemingly lacking significance that to the busy outside eyes of the living, they would be nothing at all.

Tiny pieces of nothingness that made up everything. A piece of dust finally settling on an otherwise clean surface, because I had not moved for two hours. That moment when you somehow manage to elongate the second hand of the clock as it moves; or at least you think you do, and that second seems just a little longer. The first drop of rain to hit the window. The smell of ink as it dries. A fleeting glance for no reason at all.

It was so much easier to focus on those small moments; to look inward instead of outward. To be contained within those eyes and to control what they see. To see the tiniest changes as they happen. That was our life, the majority of it at least. An interesting parallel to an exterior view of our lives. Such blood and violence and death; surely we lived the most exciting, thrilling lives?

But it was in fact those infinitesimal moments that made up almost everything. The very smallest of things. The beads of moisture trailing down Edward's face as I smashed into his chest. I remembered the coldness of the floor, the exact shade of his skin. His eyelashes. I remembered a strand of my own hair getting in my mouth and the moment I pause to spit it out.

Tiny moments building up to something massive and unstoppable and we never saw it coming because all we could do was focus on each tiny moment and as occurred and expired, making way for the next...until the next was not something tiny.

The next moment was me plunging myself into another's soul.

My search for Jasper was not going particularly well, but maybe that was because I was distracted. Hesitant, now that I knew what had to be done, to actually go and do it.

Too easily, I fell back into the slipstream of my thoughts.

It was the small moments.

I remembered a time in a room, dusty and unused; a small cloistered room with boxes lining all the walls, filled with things of little interest to anyone. Some twenty years ago now, but I could taste the musty scent of the rotting boxes and the well aged dust in the still and silent air. Across the room from me, knees huddled to his chest, was Edward. I sat in a similar position and all we were doing in that comparatively tiny room...was staring. Those were days before any tangible form of mindreading. Days when I saw everything I needed to see in his eyes, instead of utilising a link, forged of desperation.

We had stared unblinkingly, for hours. Not moving, not speaking; just staring. Able to sit and stare without feeling the need to look down, look away, fidget or say something inane. To just look and see and have that be enough.

A tiny set of moments compared to the explosive dramas we had lived out over the years, but ones that bore significance. In those hours, I'd given up all hope of ever denying it. In those silent moments, I'd just _known_. It was like staring into a mirror and for the first time, I could stare back without wanting to look away.

A string of moments that, to anyone else, would seem dull and lifeless; lacking in the exuberance and passion of our usual forays. But the truth in those moments was jarring and unforgettable. Those tiny moments held all the truth in the world and it was those that moulded into the backbone of strength we would need for the coming years when everything would come at us too fast and we, being imperfect beings, would lash out at one another with everything in our impressive repertoire of insults. And when that failed, we would strike out because what tore through us left us weak and frustrated beyond all repair.

And those tiny moments...they would hold everything together, if only by a single thread.

When everything in your life was big, those small little pieces of nothingness became everything.

Sometimes, I would look down at my body and wonder at the cruelty of fate that it denied me my imaginary baby. That perfect body, that would always be perfect, would have bloated with wonderful imperfection, would have stretched and marked itself in the process of creating something I would have loved more than myself. Maybe it would have dissolved my arrogance; humbled me somehow. I would have lost interest in myself; caught in the love for my baby, my child.

But no. I would have the perfect body instead. I would have icy perfection and arrogance and a vanity to cover for the fact that I despised the face in the few mirrors scattered here and there in our house. I would have all that...and no baby. No change, no chance to be altered by pressure and sleepless nights and stress, but to be redeemed by that overwhelming love that I'd only read about and _would never know_.

A cruel set of scales but, seen in a cold light, necessary. After all, what kind of child could possibly be born of me, such as I was?

And while I felt and would always feel robbed of that, I could not bear the true resentment that I outwardly displayed. Had I been given that life, it would be a life without Edward. And that concept was unthinkable.

"Uh, Rose? Were you looking for me?"

I blinked and shook myself. Jasper was right there in front of me, staring at me as though I might have been a mentally ill escapee; one who should be approached with caution.

"Yes, yes I was," I managed, regaining the ability to speak. "Sorry I was...yes, I was looking for you. I need to talk to you."

He was still acting as though I was potentially unstable. "Yeah, I got that. Come on, we can go the library." He didn't start walking until I did, and followed me step for step as we headed for that part of the house.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, glancing around at the notable lack of sound and movement.

"Scattered around," he said evasively and I didn't push his lie. If Jasper was lying to me, it was because he believed it to be for the best. The library was mercifully empty and the familiar scent of old paper and bound leather gave me strength.

"So," he said, closing the door behind us. "What is it?"

I didn't hesitate. "I need your help in building a barrier between Edward and myself."

He nodded as though expecting what I'd just said. "What makes you think it will work this time?"

With a heavy sigh, I replied, "This time, I _want_ it to work."

* * *

**-Jasper-**

One day, I hoped I would discover the necessary courage and talent with which to turn the objects of my constant fascination, into literature. Perhaps with time, I would learn how to write about Rosalie and Edward; to depict what I saw and sensed between them. To write their story, somehow. I privately theorised that if I could accomplish this task, I would be giving the world such a gift of knowledge, similar to that of the atomic bomb or genetic power. Because from an outsider perspective, that's what it was.

Formidable force and power, with the devastating potential for destruction. Yet, harnessed properly, capable of producing the most incredible reactions that defied all logic and reason.

But then, I was ignoring all the insufferable treacle and useless complications that they devoted most of their time to creating; leaving me to wade through them and attempt to fix whatever they had done. That would be far less interesting to write about. Who, in all honesty, would want to read about people such as they, who ran in constant circles of never ending stupidity and pride, all because they were too lost in their arrogance and self loathing to see the blindingly obvious truth of their relationship?

Though, I had to admit, when they weren't doing that, they were indeed – as I said – the objects of my deep and constant fascination.

In some ways, they were like profoundly emotional children. Entrenched in their own limited beliefs, affected by everything the other said and did and burdened by a sense of responsibility and guilt that God himself would not lay claim to. And maybe it was this affectionate comparison that lead to me situations such as these, where I found myself lying to everyone else, so I could take Rosalie and Edward into the forests to attempt to help them yet again.

"Edward, if you don't stop fidgeting I swear to _Lucifer_...!" I snapped, losing my patience again. The ground was uncomfortable enough beneath me, sitting Indian style, without his incessant trademark '_Nervous Emo Boy Twitches'_ eating into my already limited serenity.

"Sorry, sorry," he said and made a last ditch effort to stay perfectly still; something Rosalie, at least, had managed to accomplish. Though the same nervousness and worry was pouring off her in waves, she was sitting statue still. "Is it really necessary to sit like this? This isn't a relaxing position at all; in fact, I think I'm getting a cramp for the first time eighty years."

"Shut up and sit still or I will reduce your mental composure to mulch!" I threatened and Rosalie rolled her lips inward, trying to swallow a smile. "Now then, it's the same basic drill as before. Empty your annoyingly full minds and focus on what I'm saying."

I waited a few seconds for purely dramatic reasons, giving them time to fail dismally at clearing their minds. The silence and stillness of the woodland area was actually quite peaceful and I felt a little more tranquil in myself, even faced with the hopeless task ahead of me.

"Close your eyes. Do _not_ breathe. Visualise blackness, vast and endless. There is nothing in it; nothing moves, nothing sounds, nothing exists."

Whilst speaking, I focused on sending out waves of calm over them both. Their nerves decreased a little. This wasn't the difficult part. We had achieved this much before.

"Now I'm going to say a word or a name and you both need to focus on your feeling for each one. Your separate feelings for each."

This was where things usually got messy.

I started off slow; things they would both feel the same about.

"Blood."

_Hunger. Necessary. Want. _I felt each feeling and was able to identify it.

"Esme."

_Love. Mother. Comfort._

"Baseball."

_Excitement. Fun. Family. _

Now I would slip in something subtly different; something of which they did not share the _exact_ same sentiments.

"Country music."

Rosalie's thoughts were tinged with, _Annoying, Unpleasant, Dull. _Edward's thoughts were more positive. _Pleasant. Tuneful. Easy._

That was good; they just needed to continue to maintain separate thoughts trains as the words progressed.

"Tanya."

Edward: _Unimportant. Pity. Indifference. _

Rosalie: _Vile. Dislike. Enemy. _

I bit my lip in anticipation of what would come next. This was always where the exercise faltered.

"Bella."

Edward: _Love. Precious. Happiness. _

Rosalie: _Love. Precious...no!_

"Damn it!" she swore out loud, breaking concentration.

I sighed and shifted, privately acknowledging Edward's astute observation about the Indian style positioning. It always happened like that. The intensity of Edward's feelings overrode Rosalie's own personal thoughts on Bella and vice versa; should I say Emmett's name first. That had been quite amusing, though, to feel Edward accidentally consider Emmett in a sexual light.

"It's alright," I said, able to stay calm because I hadn't been expecting miracles. "Let's try again."

"No," she said, impatience making her snappy. "This is stupid, why are we still trying it like this? We need to do something different! Something that will actually work!"

"Oh well," I said with heavy sarcasm. "Let me just consult my handbook, entitled, _'Ten Handy Tips When Separating The Shared Consciousness of Soul Mates!'_ I'm sure it has a troubleshooting section."

Edward let out a snort, while Rosalie glared daggers at me. "You're not helping!"

"What do you expect me to do?" I asked, genuinely exasperated. "Maybe this is something you two need to, y'know...do alone? Why the hell do I have to be the bearer of cosmic secrets? Just imagine a brick wall or something and then shove it into place when you start getting into each other's psyche."

"That doesn't work," Rosalie muttered, obviously speaking with the voice of experience. "It's too...complex. There are too many ways in, too many links. You can't just _'build a wall' _in front of something this big!"

"Dramatising it won't help," I pointed out.

She fell into a sullen silence, conflicted frustration pouring out of her. I watched as Edward shifted to face her, reached out and gently put his hand on her shoulder. The effect was startling in it's success; she calmed down almost immediately. See, this was why I wanted to be able to write about them; even if it was only in an analytical, research kind of way. Taking notes on them like they were particularly interesting lab rats.

Edward shot me a dirty look as Rosalie said, "Lab rats, huh? Nice, Jazz."

Momentarily stunned, I said, "Did you just...read my mind through him?"

She shrugged, looking unconcerned. "He heard it, so I heard it."

"This is why it's so important that you put these barriers in place, Rose," I said, suddenly serious again. "You're not as well trained to deal with Edward's ability and reading the minds of others..."

"Usually I can block it out," she said shortly. "I was distracted, that's all."

"So you can block some things out?"

"Not really, Edward blocks it from his end and I block it from mine. I can't explain it. It's like two way traffic; it'll only stay out if we both hold it out."

I tried to stay patient, I really did. "So...why don't you just do that? Both block each other at the same time?"

They both looked shifty, embarrassed almost. Edward removed his hand from her shoulder, I noted that her inner calm did not benefit from the loss of contact.

"It's...difficult," she said after a moment.

"Why?"

Edward looked as though he was about to abruptly change the subject, but Rosalie said it outright.

"It's too addictive. Too... gratifying."

I blinked slowly. "Pardon?"

Now Edward looked distinctly embarrassed; if he could have blushed, I was certain that's what he would have been doing. When Rosalie spoke, he seemed annoyed, like he would have preferred her to say nothing at all.

"It requires constant, focused effort to maintain even the simplest of blocks and...it's very...difficult to generate...that...when it feels so...good."

Eyes narrowed, I tried to follow that line of logic. "Are you saying that you can't block each other because you don't want to?"

"No," she said and ignored the pointed look from Edward. He was most definitely irritated now. "No, we want to put the block in place. We recognise the necessity, we know things will be better if we do, but each time we try there are complications and well..."

"Oh spit it out!" I snapped.

Rosalie shot me a gentle glare. "When you're with Alice, when you're alone with her and you're kissing and touching and _together, _could you just suddenly stop feeling that? Just cut that emotion, that _feeling_ off?"

I put my hand over my eyes, thinking I might actually die. "Are you comparing your connection to an orgasm?"

"In the most basic and limited sense of articulation, yes," she said while Edward simply closed his eyes against the horror of the scenario.

"Right, well, I now require thirty years worth of therapy, but we're making progress. So this...thing, this telepathy thing is like...like sex? How is that even possible? I mean you have this incredible, life altering love and everything but it doesn't feel sexual when you're reading each other's minds."

"It's not like that all the time, but the connection is there," Rose said. "When we try and put up a block, a serious one...the connection tightens and pulls and whatever it is...it intensifies. Makes it harder to block each other out. It's only started happening lately. When I've tired to block him, I start feeling weaker, less like myself. When I give in, it comes crashing back. Stronger than before."

"How is that like sex for you?" I exclaimed.

They shared a glance, one that I tried not to read too much into, but unmistakably was a mutual understanding. I supposed that was how it was for them. Never just deciding casually one night to get together for a bit of fun. One would resist, the other would _insist_; they'd struggle and fight, deny their attraction and then wham! All that sexual tension and epic romance would explode!

I was traumatised, but had glimpsed a little more of their convoluted relationship. They could never get enough, never get close enough, never have enough time...so when they found a way to get _just a little more_ of one another, it was going to be almost impossible to give it up again. God, they were like junkies.

"If that's true," I said wearily. "Then there's nothing I can do. Honestly. The connection is too strong and if it's like you say, the push and pull of it...then pushing and pulling will only make it worse. Probably only make it stronger. Christ, look at what happens to you two when you try and stay away from each other for a month."

Rosalie faltered for a moment. "But...you have to help us." She sounded so young, so completely lost without me for a moment. "Who else will help us if you don't?"

"How? I'm way out of my league here, I admit it. There's no precedent for this. Certainly no precedent for either of you."

"There has to be something," Edward said quietly, but he had lost any hope he might have felt before. Instead, he seemed deeply contemplative; while Rosalie watched him as though he needed to be monitored carefully or else he might fall into the chasms of his thoughts.

It would never cease to be shockingly strange to witness them like this; so tangled up in one another, but with such an impressive blind spot that neither could quite see it. I felt a brief and passing sense of pity for them both; they had no real hope of ever untangling the mess that they were and even if by some miracle they did, they would be too torn apart by the separation to ever be whole or stable enough to possibly exist. They were _too_ connected, _too_ similar, _too_ intertwined. And it was shockingly clear to me in those moments. There was _no way_ to untangle them at this point. There would never be any wall great enough to put between them, any barrier strong enough to keep those crashing emotions at bay. It was futile. And I knew it.

"Listen," I sighed with a familiar sense of dread. "You have to consider the possibility that there _isn't_ anything I or anyone can do to block this."

I expected a fight from Edward; an outright denial, some raging insistence that there had to be something, _something_ that could be done. His complete lack of reaction was deeply disquieting.

All he said, seemingly to himself, was, "An unstoppable force."

"Well," I said. "That's one rather poetic way of putting it, I guess."

"So you're saying there's nothing you can do for us?" Rosalie asked, eyes flashing worriedly between me and Edward. She was pleading with me, I could feel it. Begging me to do something, even if it was only make believe; put up some magic, non existent wall and let them believe they had a chance. My sister, the only one I'd ever really had and I loved her so much that I _wanted_ to do that. I wanted to lie and hand them both platitudes and fanciful, hopeful happy endings.

But the stark, cold truth would always remain.

There was no cure, no hope of ever giving them back the sanity in separation they once had.

One soul in two bodies. One soul and now one mind. And no going back.

Edward heard me, of course he did. He flinched away from my thoughts as though they could physically injure him and it took only seconds for Rosalie to scour his mind for the source of his unhappiness.

"That's it then," she said a few moments later. "There's nothing to be done."

"As far as I know," I said feeling pathetic and useless in the face of such failure. They had come to me with hope and I had failed them both. "But maybe as time goes on..."

"You don't believe that," Edward said very quietly. "You think we're going to be like this forever."

Before I even had a chance to speak, Rosalie pushed up on her knees and took Edward's face in her hands and made him look at her.

"Then...then so what?" she demanded, trembling slightly. "So we'll be like this forever, stuck inside one another's hearts and minds and soul? That's nothing, we can get through that. We can. So things will be difficult. So there'll be some character bleed, so what? We can _do this_, Edward. We've gone through worse before and we'll go through worse again. We just have to do what we always do. Control it. That's it. Alright? Do you understand me?"

He reached up and grabbed her, pulling her right down towards him and kissed her. It was something of a shock to witness; I had never seen them kiss before. Never seen them intimate in any way whatsoever and I had always thought that when I did finally find myself subjected to it, it would be unsettling and theatrical.

But it wasn't. It was...natural. Watching them kiss, _seeing it happen_ was one of the most ridiculously natural experiences of my long and complicated life. It was like watching two droplets of water bond together and just as seamless. I was filled with irrational and terrifying certainty in those short moments, before I realised that I needed to leave, that if only Bella and Emmett could _see _this...they would understand it too.

* * *

-**Rosalie**-

In the days and eventually weeks that followed, I battled relentlessly with a new brand of theological confusion that had been slowly consuming me. Life as an immortal was filled with nothing but time and that time could only be filled with so many things before the mind catches up. And my mind was merciless.

I wondered at the idea of a God who would allow that poor girl to be beaten almost to death. It tormented me in ways I had not allowed myself to entertain for many years. The concept of a Godless world was less terrifying to me than it's opposing theory. The idea that there was indeed a God, and he would not extend that hand to help...it made me cold.

Externally, life was improving. Emmett and I were working hard on a new season of our relationship. It was difficult, but everything was. His trust in me was shaken and it was entirely my responsibility to restore it to it's fullest strength once more. I worked tirelessly to be patient when I felt brittle and fractious; the results were instantaneous and impressive; a sign that Emmett was working just as hard. The family settled back into a more relaxed routine and the rigid, unpleasant tension in the air began to dissipate. We had time to ourselves, even though we were still in the family house. We were supposed to be far away, attending college elsewhere in accordance with the farce that was our lives to the outside world. I wore my ring, freshly cleaned from the jewellers, and when Emmett and I made love for the first time in a long time, he paused to look at it; to take in it's significance and doing so seemed to bring out a light in him that had long been diminished.

But inside me, there was turmoil that could not be sated by smiles and affectionate gestures. There was ugliness and burning questions that tore at the foundations of everything for answers that would burn even more than the need to_ know. _

I wanted to believe that nothing happened for a reason, because then it would be chaos. Random, painless chaos and every bad thing that happened would be completely unbiased. Yet I knew different. As the years drew on, I was starting to see a pattern forming in what could commonly be termed life. It was like looking at a picture from afar; the meaning and methods all became clearer as time passed. Things did happen for a reason though they might not have pertained to who was deserving of what.

I was still mulling that concept over in my mind when Carlisle said we needed to have a conversation about werewolves.

Werewolves. They made me sick. I had never much liked dogs, let alone the idea of gigantic wolves rooted in the mindset of teenage boys. When Edward began to talk of this Jacob Black, his revulsion bled into me irreversibly and I knew I would despise that boy, quite irrationally, for many years to come. I listened, as we all did, as the situation with these new creatures was explained to us. He invariably twitched and sneered at points n his briefing; jealousy and insecurity poured from him and it made me a little sad that even his beloved, miraculous Bella couldn't give him _quite_ the wholehearted happiness that he so deserved.

"But why is Bella so friendly with them?" Jasper asked, when Edward paused. "Surely she understands the position that puts us in?"

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose with a barely concealed sigh. "She doesn't really comprehend the situation. As far as she's concerned, Jacob has been there for her. He's her...her friend."

I made a disgusted noise, quite helplessly. Judging from the looks I received, it was clearly construed as disgust for Bella and her wandering loyalties when in fact it was more Edward's jealousy coming out through me. But I stayed quiet, of course.

"But why?" Emmett wondered aloud. "He's a _wolf,_ for Christ's sake! And we're vampires! Hasn't she ever seen a movie? Read a book? Do the words, supernatural enemies mean nothing to her?"

"She's probably going for dramatic irony," I muttered and even Alice cracked a smile at that.

Carlisle stepped in quickly. "Regardless of her intentions, none of which I'm sure were malicious, the simple fact is that Bella wishes to be associated with them; in particular, this Jacob Black (_another powerful wave of hatred_)and we shall all have to adjust."

"Adjust how?" Jasper asked incredulously. "What, are we opening up some kind of shelter for them? Putting out food at night?"

Carlisle raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on Jasper's satire. "Adjust by being careful. Maintaining the boundaries and respecting them."

"But this is _our_ land," Emmett said a little forcefully. "We've been hunting here for years."

"And we shall continue to do so," Carlisle explained patiently. "Just without crossing the boundary into Quileute land."

"It's ridiculous," he pointed out.

"But unfortunately, a necessity. Please, everyone agree to respect the boundary." Carlisle waited while everyone nodded, Emmett last and even I felt his resentment and resistance against the newly reinstated treaty.

I suspected, as did Edward, that it meant trouble, and we were rarely wrong. But I couldn't force my mind to stay on the subject; on any subject, really. It was like some magnetic force; drifting helplessly back to that main school of thought; that singular and current obsession.

The family discussed the issue some more, but I couldn't really focus on it properly; even Edward's mind wasn't enough to pull me from my darkening reverie. My own was too deep and it's undercurrent too strong. There was no escaping it.

The more time that passed, the more confusing everything became. I felt so desperately _alone_ sometimes that I found myself envying those foolish humans, placing blind faith and belief into a fairytale of two millennia ago. I wished I could believe that story, even though it would signify my own damnation. I wished I believed in God, some deity...something.

I wished I believed.

But all I heard was that man's voice, in the last moments before he died. All I heard were those devastating words and it was like shining a light into a vast well of darkness and nothingness. I felt too much and at the same time, nothing. I wished I had never gone out into that night, had prevented all this madness before it had brought me to this stage in my life. Godless, broken and certain of nothing. Well, almost nothing.

And in this frame of mind, another week passed me by without permission or acknowledgement.

* * *

It was raining the day Emmett's stubbornness caused us a problem severe enough to bring me out of my spectacularly deceptive fugue state. In all fairness, it was probably my fault entirely. I should have been watching more closely. I should have been keeping an eye on the things Emmett was too carried away with to notice; like the stupid Quileute boundary. But I was distracted, as I had been lately. Not sufficiently that anyone but Edward or perhaps Jasper, on a good day, could detect. I was, and I suspected always would be, the mistress of all things deceptive.

It all happened too fast, even for us.

The scent of that vampire, that _other_ vampire, hit me hard even though there were only trace amounts of it lingering in the air and around the organic materials, such as trees or shrubs. I knew instantly that it was Victoria. And so did Emmett, judging by the way he tore off in the direction that the scent led. Straight across the boundary. That Goddamned boundary we had spent an hour discussing; Emmett shot over it like it was nothing.

Which was when it all happened. Much too fast. And I realised, I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to protect my husband, my lover, from those _dogs_. I wasn't ready and that was simply unacceptable.

I could see up ahead that they were closing in on him and that was really all I needed to see. I exploded out of the quiet, pleasant demeanour I had been trying to force myself into and I flew towards them, all fury and instinct.

Rosalie, _me_...again, finally.

It felt good; amazingly good. Simple, basic and utterly pure. The need to defend; to let out that furious anger and frustration that the world bled into me. It burst out and those wolves cowered and backpedalled while I made sounds I didn't think I was capable of making after so long in reasonable domesticity.

"Don't you come _near_ him!" I growled, guttural and strong. I realised I had put myself directly in front of Emmett. The wolves eyed me warily, ears twitching as they clearly weighed their options. I was grudgingly impressed by their sheer size, though I wouldn't be revealing that anytime soon.

In the back of my mind, Edward was telling me to calm down, begging me to stop while some miniscule part of him delighted in the possibility that I might _not_. That I might tear those beasts apart and let that be a lesson to that inbred moron Black who was so obsessed with idiot of the year, Bella Swan. His voice was quiet, though. Muffled and indistinct and...and I had thought very clearly of Bella exactly the way _I_ thought of her. Not Edward's opinion, _mine_. No persuasion, no mingling, no intertwined opinions or blurred lines.

I wrenched it to the very back of my mind and focused on what was at hand. It was easier, because of the venomous adrenaline pulsating around my system in a way I had not felt for a while. It was breathtakingly _good_ and I remembered easily now why it was Edward and I fought so much. Because this, _this_ feeling...was how I kept my focus on the rest of the world. Was what allowed me to live my double life almost flawlessly.

Emmett was pulling me backwards, an unexpected gesture, while the wolves watched us leave without moving so much as a muscle. They waited until we were back over the boundary before the began to back away and then finally turned and ran.

"I'm so sorry," Emmett was gasping, as out of breath as I was. "I shouldn't have...it came so quickly, I just...just reacted! Please don't be mad, babe. Are you mad?"

I looked at him and the beaming smile was ridiculously easy and natural all of a sudden. I took his face in my hands and brought his mouth to mine in a fierce kiss.

"Idiot," I mumbled and he laughed; carefree and reckless like he had once sounded.

And though I was thrilled that the universe seemed to have taken pity on me once more and given me the answer to at least one of my many tangled issues, the implications were heartbreaking.

The balance had to be restored.

* * *

It was almost two weeks later that Edward came to me in pieces and begged for me to do something he knew I wouldn't want to do. Incidentally, it had taken me that long to gather the courage for _me_ to ask Edward to do something _he_ wouldn't want to do. My energy during that time had gone into keeping my plan from him; something which I found was easier when I managed to rile up my adrenaline levels and Emmett was only too happy to oblige in helping me there.

I'd heard his approach, felt him coming a mile away from where I was staring off out at the icy, brooding ocean. The very same place where we had once come before, though for very different reasons. He came up behind me and stopped short of just touching me, but I felt it anyway. The heat and essence of his body, so close to mine, was unmistakeable. I stared out at the vast, uncaring ocean and sighed.

"We're bound by water," I said softly, it was almost carried away by the wind but I knew he caught it. He chose not to follow my sentimental line of thought.

"How are you doing that?" he asked and I could hear in his voice that something was very, very wrong. "How are you blocking me? I thought we...you couldn't do it before and now...I can barely feel you."

I wrapped my arms around myself a little tighter. "It's complicated."

"And our life isn't?" he demanded, voice broken and fraught. "What the hell is this, Rosalie? I've been trying to get a hold on your thoughts and feelings for days now and...hardly a thing!"

There were ample clues as to what precisely it was that was wrong with him and if I had been so inclined, I could have determined instantly what the problem was. But I couldn't find the energy to do so, not when all my energies went in to keeping him out as it was.

"But we...you said it was better to give up for the time being, he pressed on as he moved around me to get a better look at my face. I kept my eyes steadily on the dark, black ocean stretching endlessly before me, but he was still perfectly formed in my peripheral vision. "We agreed. Didn't we?" He sounded a little desperate now.

"You wanted it gone," I pointed out with forced calm because I could see how difficult he was going to make this. "Remember? You told me it had to stop. You never wanted it in the first place."

"Yes, I remember," he ground out. "But I didn't think...I thought there would be more time."

"More time before what? Before you got what you wanted? Well it must be a miracle then, mustn't it?"

He took hold of my forearm and pulled it to make me look at him. There was fury etched into his stunning features, each aspect of which I knew better than my own. "There are no miracles, Rosalie!"

I frowned, as I began to get a vague sense of what it was that driven him here.

"You came to discuss theology?"I asked sceptically.

He closed his eyes. "No, I didn't. You know my beliefs and you know they cannot be swayed."

"This is an old song, Edward, sung too many times before. What point is there in rehashing it over and over? I grow weary of it."

"I have not come to rehash anything," he said quietly, letting go of my arm slowly as though I was a skittish animal who might flee at any given moment. "I have come to ask a favour."

"But I have one to ask you, first," I said, fixing my eyes on the distant, dark horizon.

"I will do anything you ask of me, Rosalie, if you will hear mine first and help me. Please."

With a great and tremendous sense of dread, I asked, "What have you come to ask of me?"

In a low, distressed voice, he told me, "I need you to talk to Bella. I need you to talk her out of becoming one of us."

* * *

_AN- I can't even think of what to say about this, really. The amount of time it took to post this is largely due to three of the biggest events of my life occurring throughout trying to write this chapter; anyone who's read my LJ will know what they are. I'll keep it short my lovelies and apologise profusely, as always; this time, though, there were actual reasons why it took SO LONG to post this._

_Anyway, thanks for sticking with me through the massively long wait, you guys. And for all the kind and wonderful support you've given me while I've struggled with real life. You are all amazing and I love you._

_Now then, for the bad-ish news._

_This chapter in going to be one of the last ones._

_I will write up until and a few days beyond Breaking Dawn as promised, and of course the chapters will be massively long but the next two – at a maximum three – chapters are going to see the end of this monster of a story. I can still recall how this was going to be a oneshot, and it took over my life. The truth is, I need to finish this story and start work on other projects now. I'm ready to do it and I feel like I'm wringing the last droplets of enthusiasm for this story and that's not good. I want to end it while I can end it well; so over the next few months, this story is going to end. It might be sooner, as things are going well in my life now (for once) but a won't make the mistake of promising that. So I'm sorry if that disappoints anyone, a few people I know will be very disappointed, but this is the way it must be._

_I love and adore you all, especially those lovely LJ stalkers – you give me strength where I could see none._

_X x x_

_Bex_

_X x x_


	41. Chapter 41: Darkest Before Dawn Part I

**-Chapter Forty One Part I-**

**-Darkest Before Dawn-**

'_I was the one you always dreamed of,  
__You were the one I tried to draw.  
__How dare you say it's nothing to me?  
__Baby, you're the only light I ever saw.  
__I make the most of all the sadness,  
__You'll be a bitch because you can.  
__You try to hit me, just to hurt me,  
__So you leave me feeling dirty  
_'_Cos you can't understand.  
__We're going down, and you can see it too.  
__We're going down and you know that we're doomed.  
__My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room._

_-John Mayer_

**-Edward-**

As those remaining rays of sunset bled into darkness and as the air began to cool, the enormity of what I had asked Rosalie to do for me began to become apparent. I had been perfectly still for too long; the feeling of ceasing to exist was creeping over me and I might as well have been a statue, but for the tumultuous frays within my mind. Were someone to come across me like this, they could easily mistake me for a long lost effigy of some tragic Prince, captured in the very essence of his brooding; perhaps the eyes would be a little too _full_ to fully pass for dead, though. They might have given me away.

And as the sun set into the distance, I could not help but feel that there was some significance there, staring me in the face and warning me. I felt as though some form of _end_ was approaching and approaching fast and I was some small, insignificant being in the midst of it.

I shook myself, as though I could physically toss those grim thoughts aside. They did not sway; stubborn phantoms and images that they were.

Once it was fully night, I moved away from where I had been standing for the last four hours in the centre of the forest. I fled and tried to leave those thoughts behind, though they would not hear of it and followed me through the darkness.

* * *

The 31st of May loomed ever closer and I found myself dreading the passing of each hour as it expired, for once obligingly swift. The outside life dimmed to a greyish normality in contrast to the pulsating, encroaching brightness that was fast approaching. I was terrified of what I had asked Rosalie to do, yet could not help but feel a tiny and most definitely sick sense of thrill of anticipation. The guilt was almost, but not quite, outweighed by a part of me that longed for that conversation; for any chance it might give me.

Rosalie was just as nervous, I could feel it. Only she hid it well, covering her tracks admirably by doing what she usually did; throwing herself into her husband and the rest of our family. She and Alice seemed to be working hard to renew the bond between them and it warmed my heart to witness them sprawled out on the floor; all propped elbows and animated chatter, their beautiful laughter ringing throughout the house. I couldn't help but feel that this was a tiny glimpse of how life might have been had it not been for the interruption that was Bella Swan. I could see very clearly the two timelines then; the one with Bella and the one without. How different things might have been had I not fallen head over heels completely in love with that young, precious human.

"So," came Emmett's voice from behind me. "How goes the moping?"

I smiled without turning around and shrugged. "Only so-so. Not quite enough world ending angst at the moment to get any real melancholia going."

"I thought as much; your scowl isn't quite making it's quota for the day," he said and nudged me '_playfully'_ on the shoulder, causing me to stumble and almost fall out of the doorway where I had been pensively leaning. "Hear the girls upstairs? I'm concerned for our general safety. They've been up there for hours and I'm pretty sure my bid to turn the den into a games room has been obliterated in favour of an entire room devoted to shoes and earrings."

"I've no doubt this plan will see fruition," I replied with a wry grin, but it was forced. My mind was very much elsewhere, pondering darkly necessary deeds which, as always, fell to Rosalie to undertake.

The guilt was such now that I couldn't even really feel it. It was too much, too heavy and I had built up a kind of numb resistance to it. As always, I asked too much of her and as always, she would do her best for me. As she had done countless times; be it in a rotting lighthouse in France, a dark beach by nightfall or a dusty attic for weeks at a time; regardless of the circumstances, Rosalie strove endlessly to help me. To be there for me, no matter the price. To pull me back from oblivion every single time.

"How's Bella?" Emmett asked and I jolted minutely, for my mind had been so very much elsewhere that her name had almost sounded foreign for a moment. I quickly regained composure and turned to look at my brother, all casual friendliness and smiles.

"She's Bella," I said and that made him laugh a little. "You know, bashing into doors and putting her precious mortality at risk every moment of the day."

I instantly regretted saying it and heard the inevitable sequitur pop up in his mind.

"So have you...y'know, made any progress on the decision?" he asked uncomfortably, though he was trying not to be,

I sighed and felt instantly a thousand times heavier than before. I thought bitterly of the old adage, '_A problem shared is a problem halved,'_ and wondered if the person who had thought it up would consider their stupid sentiment quite so true were they there with me then. Having the whole family know of my struggle with this made it so much worse, it was almost unbearable. It was as though they were all waiting for me to come to the supposedly inevitable conclusion, but I did not think it was as inevitable as they did.

Which was of course, why I was brooding. Why I was once again, horribly indebted to Rosalie for her upcoming attempts. Why I could never forgive myself, even though I would do what she had asked of me in return; something I was dreading almost as much as what she would do for me.

"Nothing's written in stone," I said and was pleased at how calm it came out. Emmett, however, did not seem convinced.

"Look, I know you feel like we're all against you, waiting for you to see the light or whatever. But honestly, it's _your _decision. More than it is Bella's."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and lowered his voice enough so only I could hear it.

"I mean, Bella's a kid. You know I like her and all, but let's face it Edward, she's a child. She's so in love with you, she doesn't know which way is up. She'd follow you to hell, sell her own mother for you and you know it. This has to be your decision ultimately. You know what's best for her. You know what it's asking of her."

I looked at Emmett, really looked at him and suddenly it was so clear to see the age in his eyes. The well hidden wisdom that lay there. Emmett was so often caught up in childlike exuberance and enthusiasm, it was easy to forget that he too was an immortal, who had seen many years.

"I know," I replied quietly. "I know."

Something shifted in his mind, a memory of some sort that caused his pain. Briefly, I saw water on a perfect white tiled floor, but it was gone in a flash. "I just want you to know, I'm here for you, man. You know that, right?" he said in a voice that sounded much more like Emmett and it warmed my heart a little. I even managed a semi-genuine smile that would have been wholly genuine, were it not for the overwhelming guilt of those words invoked.

"Yeah," I told him. "Me too."

"I know it's hard," he went on. "I know sometimes, you struggle and things have been weird the last few months, but that's over now. I'm your brother and I've always got your back."

He thumped me on the arm for good measure and I chuckled, attempting to return to favour, but it didn't quite impact like his.

"Pathetic," he said with a shake of his head. "You should really get your rhythm back. I'll help out if you want. Train those weakling muscles up a bit."

"Oh yeah? I could kick your ass and you know it!" I teased with a grin.

"There's only one girl on this planet who can kick my ass, and we both know it ain't you, bro," he said and turned to leave with yet another '_friendly'_ pat on the arm which sent me stumbling a few feet. His laughter echoed away down the hall and I felt somehow...better.

Or at least, I _was_ feeling better until he yelled out, "Oh yeah, and we'd better reach minimum safe distance from Alice before Bella gets here! I think she's gonna braid hair and everything!"

And instantly, that feeling of mild relief was eviscerated. I was set alight with red hot, sharp terror. For a few tiny moments, I had stupidly allowed myself to forget what was happening tonight.

Tonight was the night that Rosalie would do what I had begged her to do.

Tonight, she would tell Bella everything.

Well. Kind of.

* * *

-**Rosalie**-

My hands were shaking. I couldn't believe my hands were shaking. Vampires didn't shake. I had done extensive research on the matter, or at least asked Carlisle several times and there was no discernible precedent as far as I was aware. Yet there they were, treacherous and obvious to the world. I couldn't help but feel somewhat terrified as my task drew nearer, demanding completion. It was odd, but I was actually afraid of speaking to Bella. Of communicating with her, one on one. As if she would somehow look into my soul and instantly know everything.

But that was ridiculous. Bella Swan couldn't walk ten feet without tripping up on a rogue oxygen molecule. She was a limited human who possessed little to no foreseeable talents. Still, I was nervous.

I knew I should make an effort with her; there was no real reason to seriously dislike her, but I suspected there would always be some level of aversion. Yet, I was determined to try. It would undoubtedly make my upcoming task a little easier.

With determination, I contained a sigh. Growing old was decidedly strange, but I was beginning to get used to the tricks time would play and how they would affect me. Looking back on how volatile I had used to be, it made me question if I would ever really stop evolving. This was an oxymoron in the greatest sense, of course, as I would never evolve or change. Only my mind grew older, my immortal body stubbornly refusing to do so ever again since that unpleasant night of my death.

There was now a distinct line visible between the _'me'_ of eighty years ago and the _'me'_ of now. So much so, I often thought of her as '_she_' instead of me. The volatility, the anger that couldn't be alleviated no matter what, no matter who tried...it seemed a little more distant now. Though I seriously doubted anyone would agree with me, I felt as though I had grown a lot and even managed to find some small measure of calm from time to time. I felt for that younger, wild girl back then. She was in there somewhere, buried beneath years of knowledge and experience; forced to watch from the sidelines until sense and control failed me entirely.

I was rapidly digressing, with purpose to forget my task no doubt, but it was fruitless and I had to face what was coming. I felt like a cowardly child, avoiding a necessary chore and I even tried to cheer myself up by imagining how it would feel when it was all over, but of course I then had to go to Edward and report on what I'd said and how she had taken it. I wasn't looking forward to rehashing it, either.

I recalled when Edward had begged me to undertake this grim task in the first place and I had not been strong enough to deny him the chance of turning Bella away from her decision to become one of us. His desperation was strong, intertwined with guilt and self-loathing - nothing new for him, of course. In fact those emotions seemed to be relatively par for the course when it came to Edward Cullen.

With a small snort, I shook myself and tried to think of a decent segue way into the conversation ahead. Urgh, I really couldn't wait to be done with this. I had no idea how I was going get the words out. Maybe pretending it wasn't Bella who I was spilling my life's story to would help. That younger girl within scathed quietly that once again, Edward was asking too much, but I tried to ignore it.

I began to make my way there, catching a glance of myself in the mirror along the way. Strange, how little I had changed on the outside, but inside...inside there was a well of changing tides and crashing emotions; evolving ideologies, newly strengthened temperaments. Unfair, perhaps, that no one would ever see it and consequently, I would forever be branded the volatile, spiteful brat I had been so many years ago.

The doorbell rang, and I closed my eyes. The night ahead even before I would try to get Bella alone was going to be unpleasant. Alice had spent the day researching sleepover ideas on the internet, making little notes on her pink pad with small sounds of surprise. It was just a little annoying, but I was used to being sidestepped for Bella now. Most of the items on the list were things Alice and I had done together many times before and I knew, without asking, that I wasn't going to be invited to join in (though I was a little grateful for that, honestly). It was simply that Alice was surprised that having a girly night with Bella was similar to having a girly night with me.

A thing of the past now, I supposed, a little theatrically. I resigned myself to sitting quietly in the background, weighing up Bella's mood and how best to approach the intimidating subject. I heard voices, laughter and Alice's pitch perfect trill.

"Here we go," I muttered to myself.

* * *

Hours later, I replayed the events over in my mind carefully, wondering if it had done any good at all. Though I knew for certain I had managed to shock Bella, there had been something oddly resilient in her eyes and I knew, deep down, I hadn't changed her mind. Edward would be disappointed, but it couldn't be helped. I had done all I could to sway her, without simply breaking down and yelling how horribly inconvenient it would be for us if she were to live forever.

For the first time, I felt a small shiver of guilt at the thought of her death. Only a small one mind, but still...it was there. Speaking to her hadn't quite been the central enlightenment of epic proportions Edward had been hoping for, but I had seen a little more into her soul perhaps. I saw love, devotion and a little desperation. She was very young, of course, and such things as love and devotion came as naturally to her as to a child, but that hint of desperation was what had intrigued me. It was not even based fully in her love for Edward. Part of it was strongly the desire and need to be immortal. To stop growing older, to stop ageing. To _stop_. Interesting, considering what I had spent forty minutes trying to convey to her. But she was childlike in her determination and was clearly focused on the path she was busily setting for herself. Though it hurt to admit, she reminded me somewhat of a much younger...well, me. That made me smile a little, just to think of that younger girl. Though Bella was utterly devoid of any of the spite or wildness that had often taken control of me, I saw a shadow of resemblance with regards to a certain stubbornness.

Maybe...but no, that was foolish. Edward would not be drawn to Bella simply because of that, comforting though it was. Sometimes it was better not to even think of what it was that drew him to her, beyond the things that I could not give him.

I closed my eyes against the sudden tide of images assaulting my minds eye all at once. Things I did not want to see or imagine; intimate things between them both that made me sick with jealousy and _wrongness_.

Maybe I had indeed evolved. I felt that distinctly, especially whilst laying out my story, cleverly edited of course, for Bella's sake. I had changed in all ways but one.

Nothing, not one single thing, about the way I loved Edward had changed. Nor, I suspected, would it ever. Like my frozen body and appearance, that never altered; it's strength and force set in immortal stone with no room for alteration of weakening. He was mine and I was his and nothing, _nothing_ was ever going to change that whether we liked it or not.

But that, of course, was highly off topic. There was still the matter of relaying my attempts to Edward and though he would be sorely disappointed, he had to know. Because now that I had done something for him, it was time for him to repay the favour. I would make it very clear what needed to happen in order for balance to be restored. And as much as I might not have wanted to do it, I knew it was yet another necessary evil. It always fell to me to make these painful decisions, or so it seemed.

"Pull yourself together," I sternly told myself aloud and had to hope that would be enough to last until they returned. Daylight would be there before I knew it and I sensed it brought trouble for company.

* * *

Trouble, in retrospect, had been a pretty good guess.

It began with a call from Alice to Esme, who I was with at the time, burning CD's for her of her favourite music. Esme had always been rather stuck in the age to which she was born when it came to any technology and she was still very impressed with the concept of burning music to a disc, if a bit useless at doing so herself. I hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something was somehow _wrong_ when Alice called, during school hours. So strange to think of Alice calling from school, when she was so old.

Esme gave me a curious glance before answering.

"Hello honey," she greeted calmly.

"Esme," I heard her say rather breathlessly. "Bella has cut school and run off with that...that _mongrel_, Black. I didn't see it because it was so spur of the moment and now she's out there with him, God knows where because I can't _see anything_ and oh, Edward is going to kill me! He's going to kill me, I know it!"

I blinked a few times in shock. Esme seemed a little stunned at first, but she recovered quickly.

"Alice honey, calm down. It's fine. Take a breath. Edward is most certainly not going to kill you, I'll see to that. Now, are you sure she's gone with Jacob?"

"Yes, that idiot Mike told me. Well, he lied pathetically a few times but then he cracked. Esme, what do I do? Shall I call Edward?"

I shook my head vehemently and Esme got the message.

"No, Alice. That's not the best idea. I'm sure Bella will be fine, she'll be back soon enough and then Edward won't have anything to get worked up about," Esme reassured her. "Just be patient. Bella isn't silly, she knows the pressure you're under."

Alice thanked Esme for the advice and hung up, but I still had an unpleasant feeling in the pit of stomach; a gnawing anxiety that wouldn't let up. Esme touched my shoulder gently.

"Rose? Darling, are you all right?"

"Hmmm?" I blinked, snapping out of my tense reverie. "Oh yes, I'm sorry. I was miles away."

Edward was miles away as well; far enough away that I hoped he wasn't getting a sense of my bad feeling. Surely that was enough distance that he wouldn't be able to sense my feelings? Plus I had been working hard to block him lately. No, I was confident he wouldn't know.

And of course, pride goeth.

It was around one in the morning when he returned from the hunt with Emmett, Jasper and Carlisle. He was already furious before he even got within a mile radius. Despite my attempts at blocking him, I could feel it. He knew already and was seriously not pleased.

Bella had been back from her escapade for a few hours and was fast asleep. I felt almost concerned for her, given the mood Edward was in. Again, the old me scowled at such an emotion.

I wanted to warn Alice, but there was no way of doing so without letting slip that Edward and I were now somehow psychically connected. Before I had a chance to concoct some lie about Emmett calling ahead and warning me, they were there, coming through the back door and the mood in the house shifted alarmingly.

I got up from the sofa with Esme and we went out into the kitchen to greet them. Esme flashed me a look and I knew she felt that something was wrong. Sometimes, I thought she was more connected to us all than anyone suspected. To her, we were her children and I often wondered if she had actually forged some tangible bond with us out of sheer love.

First I saw Carlisle, who smiled, but it was faint; he and Esme shared a glance, but I couldn't focus on its meaning. Following him was Jasper who gave Alice a warning look, as if to say _'Get the hell out of dodge'_ and then Emmett came behind who gave me a very similar look, only he also whispered, rather loudly, "_He's in a bad mood!"_

Which, of course, Edward heard as he closed the door behind them all with a rather unnecessary slam.

"I'm not in a bad mood," he corrected quietly and I heard the force behind it. "I'm _furious_."

Jasper went to Alice immediately, who was frozen leaning against the counter with a shockingly calm expression.

"Furious, Edward?" she asked, amazingly normal sounding. "Why?"

"Why do you _think_?" he said, eyes flashing dangerously. "You let her go gallivanting off with that _dog_ all day! I told you to keep her safe!"

"Edward," Esme chastised. "She is safe, she's asleep upstairs. Go see for yourself."

But Edward was hearing none of it and I felt the vestiges of what had been panic, turned to all consuming frustration and anger that he simply _couldn't _stop her from seeing Jacob Black.

"I left her in your care, Alice! How could you let this happen?"

"Hey!" I snapped, more to get him down from his tower than anything else. "Don't blame Alice because you decided to go miles away and leave her. Alice has been nothing but good to Bella and tried her best to watch her. She skipped school; he just turned up and stole her from what we gather. Unless you wanted us to spark some kind inter species war with the Wolves, we couldn't go and get her back, now could we?"

He set upon me a terrible glare, but I gave him one right back. His thoughts were fractured and painful, but all laced with that same breathless frustration.

"I don't know why you're defending Alice!" he snarled and the familiarity of it sent shivers down my spine. "You probably orchestrated the entire thing, hoping Victoria would be conveniently wandering around La Push!"

"Edward," Carlisle warned in a serious tone. It was always a big deal to hear Carlisle use that tone and it put everyone on edge. Often, it was because he thought Edward was crossing the line when speaking to me; he had always been a little more protective of me than any of the others.

But it felt..._good_ to have him snarl at me. To have everyone think we were back at each other's throats. I encouraged it.

With a rather spectacular sneer of my own, I replied, "You're just jealous of her puppy love crush on Jacob Black! Don't take it out on Alice because you can't keep the two of them apart!"

That hurt him enough to make him want to slap me, even in front of our family and I noticed Jasper shift his stance very subtly, but of course nothing happened. He forced it to simmer down into a disgusted shake of his head.

Emmett stepped forward. "Guys, this doesn't help anything. The bottom line is that Bella's safe in her bed, OK? Edward, it's not our fault if she's gonna go skipping off with wolves. She's a free range human being with her own mind, own decisions and sense of free will. You _can't_ control her and if you keep trying, she's gonna keep pulling in the direction of a certain free spirited, reckless motorcycle driving wolf."

Maybe it was because it had come from Emmett, but something in his words seemed to calm Edward down. The sense of worry remained, but the fury had cooled off considerably. Alice took this as her chance.

"Edward, I really am sorry. But Em is right, I can't tie her down and even if I did, she'd run away and likely never come back. You're going to push her away by doing this."

He looked down and nodded and the energy seemed to go right out of him.

"I guess you're right. I _know_ you're right. Sorry."

Alice stepped forward and gave him a hug. "It's OK. We understand. Now go see her and be nice."

I watched silently from the sidelines as he left, with not so much as a backwards glance in my direction. I felt his anger, but I also felt his guilt. Deep and rotting and it was agony to let him go without telling him I was sorry too. Sorry I had failed to do as he had asked. Sorry that he was caught in his own conundrum; desperate to keep Bella human, terrified of her fragility as one.

But I let him go and decided I would wait. He would find me later.

He always did.

* * *

I had been still for so long by the time he came to me that all the dust in the room had settled completely. I'd listened to each fragment land while keeping track of the moments as they passed, endlessly. The music room was so rarely used these days. Edward was too distracted with Bella now and I was afraid, if being honest, to sit and allow the music to channel through me. Afraid of what I might feel, what it might make _him_ feel. Music was such a powerful, raw emotion and I knew it was dangerous to play with fire when sitting in a puddle of gasoline.

Still, it sat there patiently waiting in the corner for a time when Edward might consider spending the odd spare minute away from his beloved human, or when I might be brave enough to feel such feelings again. I heard echoes of keys, invoked by my fingers and the rhythms varied greatly. Furious, melancholy, frustrated, engrossed; I had once been brave enough to let it all spill out over the beautiful instrument. I had broken it; bitterly thrilled that I might have destroyed something that gave pleasure to Edward, knowing deep down that I had been cutting my nose off to spite my face but it had felt _good_ to hurt him when he so often hurt me.

I shook my head, trying to shake the ghosts of such feelings. I didn't want to feel resentful and victimised. It would do no good, especially not when I knew he was coming here to see me and he certainly wasn't in a very good mood.

His bad mood, like the building storm in the distance, was growing so much so that I could almost taste it upon the air. It would grow and build until he could come to me and find a way to vent it out. For some strange, twisted reason I felt the corners of my mouth curling up in a smile; he could only do that to _me_. He could never go to Bella and let his real feelings explode everywhere, not in a thousand years. It made me feel somewhat smug that I remained the only person truly allowed to see that dark side he worked so hard to hide. It made me feel _secure_, even. He was, after all, mine in so many ways and while I might be able to come to terms with the idea of Bella touching him, kissing him and being intimate with him, I didn't think I would ever be able to contemplate him allowing her to see that part of him. That was an intimacy I would never willingly share.

"A bad choice of place," he commented as he slid the door shut behind him. "But I suppose you did that on purpose. Nice and public, so I can't go off the rails, huh?"

I tilted my head, saying nothing; just waiting patiently for him to say what he needed, to get it out. I felt him inside me, moving cautiously inside my mind but it was not caution for my own sake; he was afraid of what he would see. I _felt_ him and it was enough to send an elongated shiver down my spine which I worked hard to repress. Having him close, being alone with him would always be a dangerous variable in an already explosive situation. I craved his touch, his lips, his body crushing into me and it was only now, with so many years gone by, that I could physically force myself not to.

"So," his said, voice shaking slightly. "You tried, huh?"

"I did. I tried my best, but she's stubborn, Edward. She wants you for always and she'll do anything to get it. I think you have to face the inevitable."

He hadn't moved from the door, I could tell from the distance of his voice when he said, "Maybe you didn't try hard enough."

"Oh yes. I sabotaged my only chance to let Bella Swan die a natural death. Now my diabolical scheme is truly coming into fruition," I deadpanned. "She heard what she wanted to, Edward. Which was not the strong underline of, 'Stay Human!'"

His mood shifted suddenly and I cursed myself inwardly because I hadn't even realised how far I had let my defences drop. He swallowed; it seemed to echo all around me.

"Then," he said in a small voice. "Do we…do I still have to keep my end of the bargain?"

I stiffened and crossed my arms. "Of course."

"But I…I don't want to."

I shrugged, feigning apathy. "I didn't _want_ to regale Bella with the unpleasant tale of my death, but at your behest, I did it. Now it's time to exchange the favour."

"How can you want such a thing, really? I know you, Rose, Goddamnit and this cannot be what you want in return! Come one, please! Anything else, I swear it."

Furious, I spun to face him and he flinched a little. It took my breath away how sad he looked, like a little boy denied the opportunity to hold his mother's hand.

"You swore it," I spat. "You swore you would restore the balance, and now you refuse me? So we are here again; in the place where I have done something for you and I am to receive nothing in return. I cannot even feign surprise at this point. Only anger at myself for even trusting that you would keep your end!"

He closed his eyes, enduring my harsh words like they were gunfire. "I don't care what I said, I really don't. I won't do it. I can't go back to being like that, I just can't. We're better now, you said it yourself that night in the bath. We don't have to fight it, we can stop fighting now!"

Invading his personal safe far too much, I hissed, "At what cost to _them_? At what cost to Emmett? Do you even care, Edward? It has to be this way, we have to be like we were before or everything will fall apart all over again and I am trying, Goddamnit I _am trying_ my best to hold it together!"

"But why does that automatically mean we have to be like this? I don't _want_ to scream and shout and hurt you with words anymore! Too many years spent doing that, too many precious moments wasted on pain and fury; rare moments that should be spent together! And I won't do it anymore!"

"You _won't do it anymore?"_ I echoed withsharp disbelief. "Why is that? Because you're sick of being the bad guy now? Decided you actually might enjoy not having to be eaten alive with guilt any time we interact? Well, screw that. You made a promise and you're going to keep it!"

"Or what?" he snapped. "You're going to push me over the edge, is that it? Make me scream and scathe and hate you? Why is it so important to you, Rosalie? And don't spoon feed me that complete rubbish about Emmett and some Holier Than Thou Balance!"

My hands were shaking, _I _was shaking and it was showing. Instead of the rage I wanted from him, all he was showing was concern.

"Look," he said, much quieter. "Calm down. I just...I don't want it to be like before. Nobody can hurt us like we do, nothing hurts as much as when we hurt each other and I _don't want to hurt you anymore_. Is that so bad?" When I didn't answer, he moved forward and grabbed me, pulling me far too close. "Is it?" he demanded and the words brushed against my lips, warm and painfully inviting.

I shut my eyes tight, trying to pretend he wasn't there, that my skin wasn't screaming for more contact, for _any_ contact and I knew that if I gave in, that would be it. We would fuse and melt and that part of the brain that cared about the outside world would be drowned out completely.

"Why can't you understand?" I whispered, voice tight and constricted, trying to keep him away. "Why can you never understand that this is how it has to be? We can never just _have each other_ without paying a price. I will not have Emmett pay the price for our happiness. If we are going to continue this," I said and his grip tightened painfully on my wrist at the word, '_if_'. "Then we have to realise it comes at a price. It will cost us any potential happiness with one another. We can't be happy, not like we've been trying to be. Look what happens, look how it affects everyone else. It's not fair, Edward. I nearly destroyed everything with Emmett and it's...it's not fair. We're stronger. We can cope, he can't."

He let out a breath he had been holding and stepped back, eyes shuttered and I felt suddenly very...alone. He had shut me out, I realised. Completely. It confused me for a moment before I fully comprehended it.

"Fine," he said lifelessly. "That's what you want, Rosalie? Fine."

Before I could choke out a response, he was gone completely in every way I could think of and I couldn't help but get the sense that it would be for a long time.

* * *

**-Three Months Later-**

When I looked back over the eighty years of my existence, I began to realise that the more time passed, the less actual moments of significance there really were. One would perhaps think that they would begin to pile up, with so much time passing. Instead, it seemed like the more that happened, the fewer moments actually seemed significant in comparison. Significant moments that didn't encompass the complete and utter destruction of my heart and soul were rare and this latest one, a third of the way through August, was certainly no exception.

I didn't really understand how it had happened, how it was coming to pass without reality flickering and shattering into a million pieces and some benevolent God reaching down to tell me it was only a tasteless joke; a test of my faith and strength.

But it _was_ happening. I was looking at myself in the mirror, wondering who I had become that I was now Bella's bridesmaid while she married the man I was bound to.

I felt as though I couldn't see myself, not really. I couldn't focus on my face, my eyes, on anything. I was numb, distanced from it all somehow like a ghost. But I knew that numbness wouldn't last, it was beginning to fade already. Soon I would be watching Edward marry Bella, declare his love for her in front of our family. She would wear the dress and look into his eyes and I...I never would.

It had been three months since Edward had uttered a word to me that wasn't perfunctory and polite, in a room full of witnesses. There had been battles, much to Emmett's delight, there had been marriage proposals, much to Alice's delight and yet, until now I had yet to really begin to feel much of anything besides a grey sense of hopelessness. I had fine tuned my autopilot to startling perfection by now, so much so it was almost like a split personality; the two halves of me strikingly different. One smiling openly, one tail spinning within. Only Jasper knew and cared enough to talk to me about it, but I had mostly avoided his kind attempts to get me to open up. One night, I heard him and Edward having a terrible argument at the bottom of the yard and I knew what it was about, but I tried to block it out, shut it away. There was no confrontation to be had; no fights in the rain, no place to run so he would follow me. Not anymore. I had hurt him badly enough that he had proposed marriage to Bella, to spite me.

But no, that was selfish imaginings. He loved Bella, of course he wanted to marry her. Why shouldn't he be happy?

The feelings of sickness that washed over me was sudden and unexpected. I knew there was nothing to physically throw up, but still my stomach rolled and clenched painfully. I wasn't ready for this, I wasn't going to be able to cope.

Only now did I begin to feel the agony that was waiting for me beyond the veil of enforced anaesthesia. How had Edward watched Emmett and I marry so many times? I was only enduring a tiny portion of what was to come and I felt like I was swallowing broken glass, ingesting the cruellest poison.

I stared at that girl in the mirror; hair piled perfectly, dress splendid and liquid like in that way that raw silk was. I didn't recognise her at all; the outwards appearance, calm and composed, was alien compared to the insides. I wondered if I was actually going to end up with a split personality soon.

Noises from downstairs caught my attention; Edward had returned. I knew only by his voice, nothing of his mind had been open to me since the last time we had spoken. He had kept me well and truly locked out ever since. I had never noticed how cold it really was outside of his mind, until he had thrown me out.

In essence, I had gotten precisely what I had asked for. I had wanted the connection blocked and it was. I had wanted the easy happiness between us gone and it was. But true to the adage, I was miserable for it.

And now he was marrying Bella. Not marrying me, he would never marry me. I was trying to force the concept upon myself so it would be easier later, but it wouldn't sink in fully just yet. It wouldn't long, of course, but I had to do something to keep my composure which really wasn't holding up very well. I could feel it cracking around the edge and that just would not do for me to break down today. Not today. I had to be strong today.

I could be strong. Yes, I could. I could hold it all in and _make_ myself physically stay together. I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, thinking that I only had to get through this day without shattering into a million pieces and soon they would be gone on their honeymoon_ (I couldn't even begin to think about that)_ and I could fall into Emmett who would be there for me so long as he didn't know exactly what it was he was being there _for_.

With nothing to more to do than to go to where Alice was frenziedly dressing Bella for her big day, I turned away from the mirror and tried not to think of how this was going to be the worst day of my life.

I walked with surprising steadiness across the hallway to where Alice's excited chattering grew louder. I saw Bella for the first time that day and I felt an unpleasant stab of jealousy because she did look quite beautiful. Only a hint of how she would look when she would be one of us, I supposed. She was still nothing compared to me; I knew that, but it hurt a little to see her like that.

She didn't seem happy at all; I wondered briefly if I was the cause of her unhappiness, but then what did she have to be unhappy about? She was marrying Edward, wasn't she?

"They're back," I said, marvelling at how normal it sounded. I watched as Bella's face positively lit up and the jealousy faded somewhat. It was hard to despise her as much as I had before when she was so stupidly innocent and so ridiculously in love.

"Keep him out of here!" Alice fretted and yet another stab of petty jealousy hit me because Alice had never, _never_ been this excited for me when I was marrying Emmett, even the first time.

But the composure held.

"He won't cross you today," I told her in a soothing tone. She barely seemed to hear me. "He values his life too much. Esme's got them finishing things up out back." I paused a little, unsure of what to do and then decided that I might as well heap some coal while I was in hell. "Do you want some help? I could do her hair."

The shock on Bella's face would have comical on any other day, it really would have been. Her jaw fell completely open and though Alice failed to see it as she was furiously rummaging around in an enormous cosmetics box for something, I couldn't help but see it. It was then that my jealously faded somewhat. I really couldn't hate her this much, not when I had reduced her to jaw dropping shock at the barest sign of kindness.

Alice didn't seem to notice the enormity of the gesture. "Sure," she said distractedly. "You can start braiding. I want it intricate. The veil goes here, underneath." She began to show me how to do it, which was funny because she had once braided my hair in the exact same way for one of my many weddings to Emmett. When I took over, I realised this was the first time I had actually ever touched Bella. It should have been some monumental thing; touching the girl who was supposed to be ruining my life, but it felt nondescript. There was nothing extraordinary about it at all.

I could practically feel the nerves rolling off her and she was shaking a little while Alice applied her make up.

No. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hate her anymore. I would never really like her, but there was no hatred. There was pity and sympathy and a calming level of neutrality. It wasn't her fault she was in love with Edward, that he had proposed to her. From what I had gathered, she didn't even want to marry him.

I went to find Jasper after I was done, which I really didn't want to do. Jasper would look right down into the centre of me and know instantly how badly I was holding things together and it would destroy me to see the pity on his face.

No. It wouldn't. I could hold it together.

I could do this.

* * *

**-Edward-**

I couldn't do this.

I had been staring in the mirror for nearly fifteen minutes now; staring at the perfectly tailored suit covering me, making me a groom and a husband to be and I just couldn't..._do this. _

Half an hour ago I had been joking around with Emmett and Esme, excited about marrying Bella, excited about the _wedding_ even and now...now I couldn't look away from the mirror as if it was hypnotising me. I didn't know how I was going to move away, go downstairs and marry Bella. Was it even possible? Could I move, breathe? How was I going to get the words out? But that was a stupid thing to worry about when I couldn't move.

It had come upon me suddenly, this terrifying state of mind. One moment I had been buttoning up my shirt and then everything had stopped.

I couldn't do this.

I couldn't marry Bella. It wasn't...right, wasn't possible. My mind wouldn't budge, wouldn't move an inch to let me think it through and come to a sane, rational conclusion. I was a deer caught in the headlights and there was no way I could do this.

How had I even gotten this far? This was monstrous, how could I have led Bella this far to not even be able to move to tell her that I couldn't marry her?

The simple, undeniable fact was that I wasn't supposed to marry Bella and it was glaringly obvious now. I loved Bella, loved her more than my own life, but I physically couldn't marry her.

I was supposed to marry Rosalie.

All my breath went in one swift burst; it was as if I had been punched, just to think that name I had forbidden myself from thinking for three months. Rosalie, Rosalie, _Rosalie_.

I fell to my knees because I should never have allowed myself to think her name, not when it had opened a floodgate of memories that were tearing me apart. I couldn't distinguish them, could not make them separate; they came in one cavalcade and it made no sense that I was not marrying Rosalie. So many years, so _much_ between us and she was not going to be my wife. The world was making less and less sense.

I might never have gotten up off the floor, had someone not come along and pulled me up.

"...going to crinkle your suit," a voice was saying, while I tried to take deep breaths and remember how to function at all. "Come on," they said. "Just breathe. Breathe."

I opened my eyes and saw, in the mirror, that Rosalie was standing in the mirror behind me, her arms wrapped around me, almost lovingly, as if holding me up.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I just stared at her, disbelieving and starting to seriously question my own sanity.

"Don't say anything," she whispered, leaning in close as she brushed invisible dust off my shoulders, while managing to still hold me up with one arm. "You're all messy. Just focus on breathing."

"Y...you..."

She smiled. It broke my heart. I hadn't seen her smile like that in so long. That perfect smile that I so rarely got to see because I never concerned myself with making her happy, because we weren't allowed to_ just be happy. _

"Well, sort of," she said. "Will you be all right if I step back now? You won't fall again, will you?"

Numbly, I shook my head and watched in the mirror as she moved backwards.

"Just remember to breathe. You'll be fine. You can do this, Edward. You can. Deep breaths and think of how much you love her. Remember?" She was still smiling and I couldn't look away from it.

"What?" I managed to whisper. "How can you...?"

"Keep yourself together and everything will be fine," she told me. "You'll see."

"But I'm not...not supposed to marry her. I'm meant for you," I said and it sounded so childish that I cringed. Words failed me completely and I was caught in the trance her smile was generating.

"Of course, darling, but that most certainly doesn't mean you're not going to go and marry lovely little Bella Swan now, does it?" she reasoned completely matter of fact.

"No?" I squeaked and tried to clear my throat but it was stuck.

"Precisely. You'll marry her, you'll dance and drink champagne and smile and it will all be beautiful. What's so bad about that?"

"It won't be you."

Her smile softened. "It will never be me, love."

I started to lose my breath again; I had never felt like this in such a long time, like I might actually asphyxiate.

I felt her hands on my shoulders, strong and reassuring. "Keep breathing and it'll be fine, I promise. You're going to marry her today. The girl you love, the girl who makes you happy. Bella who snuggles against you, even when she's cold. Bella who would die for you. Bella who is everything you love; sweet and warm and fragile. You get to marry her today. This should be a wonderful day. Not a day for suffocating angst and despair."

There was a faint sense of Deja Vu there but I couldn't place it. Too much was happening in my head.

Her hands were massaging the tight knotted muscles of my shoulders and I felt myself actually begin to relax. I let my eyes fall closed and she leaned in close enough that I felt her body against my back.

"Breathe. I'm right here and everything will be fine. Marrying Bella won't make me run away and jump in a volcano. I've married Emmett many times and you will marry Bella many times. It's another breaking point, my love. You can hold it together. We both can."

I nodded, keeping my eyes tight shut.

"Say it with me," she whispered, her lips against my ear. "Say it, Edward."

"Not time. Or love. Or obligation," I said, slowly, trying to hold onto each word as if they were lifelines in a rip tide.

"Good," she told me, placing a small kiss beneath my ear. "Now straighten your tie. The other one is coming."

"Wh-?"

I opened my eyes and she was gone. A second later the door opened and Rosalie was standing there, dressed completely differently.

"Sorry," she said, looking away immediately. "I'm looking for Jasper. Alice sent me."

"Jasper?" I managed, my head spinning. Trying to manage a single thought was very hard work.

"Yes," she said sharply. "You _are_ in his room, after all."

"Oh. Right," I said nodding and trying to get myself straight fast. "Yes. He's...uh, he's with Carlisle. Seating people. I think."

She nodded and dropped her eyes down.

"Thanks. Uh. Good luck," she said quietly and closed the door behind her.

I exhaled as soon as the door clicked shut and I fought to keep breathing, like the Rosalie of my wayward imagination had advised me. "I'm losing it. Losing it." There was a long pause while I tried to let my mind settle. I looked myself in the eye, staring at that reflection intently.

"But not today," I told myself. "Not today."

And strangely, after that, I was able to pull myself together enough to straighten my tie and soon after, marry Bella Swan.

* * *

_End of Part One..._

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Anyone who has checked my LJ will know that this is the final chapter, split into three parts. Apologies and cries for forgiveness for this monstrous act are also on my livejournal. It's just taking too long and at this rate, if I don't post it in three parts now, then there won't be an update until summer of 2012. This story is literally starting to suck the life out of me now, not because I don't love it – because I really, really do – but because I just desperately want to start writing my big book for real now and I can't do that until this is finished. _

_So, the finale chapter in three parts. I really hope everyone enjoys and please don't take my head off too much. There will be a massive shoutout to anyone who has ever posted a review in the final chapter and some very personal thank-you's. _

_For now though. _

_Urm. _

_Review?_

_Bex_

_x x x x x_


	42. Chapter 41: Darkest Before Dawn Part II

**-Chapter Forty One Part II-**

**-Darkest Before Dawn-**

_'So it's better this way, I said,  
Having seen this place before,  
Where everything we said and did,  
Hurts us all the more.  
Its just that we stayed, too long  
In the same old sickly skin.  
I'm pulled down by the undertow,  
I never thought I could feel so low,  
Oh darkness I feel like letting go.  
If all of the strength  
And all of the courage  
Come and lift me from this place,  
I know I could love you much better than this.  
Full of grace,  
Full of grace,  
My love.'_

_-Sarah McLachlan_

**-August 31st-**

Things fall apart. It's the unpleasant truth that no-one really wants to acknowledge, the truth we hide and push back with colours and music, laughter and sunny days. But beneath that, everything that we love and cherish is completely capable of and often included to fall apart. Things crumble and shatter, sometimes slowly and over an elongated amount of time, sometimes in one spectacular moment. But regardless, things fall apart. They always will.

The strongest of things all have weak points, are all subject to tensile strength, and over time everything will be put to the test. Most things will fall to pieces; break under the strain. They can be put back together again, though and this is usually _why_ things fall apart. The knowledge of how to put something back together again is invaluable. This usually includes the knowledge of how to build it stronger too.

But sometimes we are not full prepared for just how much things really can fall apart. People die, loved ones betray, money comes and goes, the world can change in a split second and nothing is set in stone. Not really. We think we're solid, untouchable and then times comes that we find we are not, there is a general sense of shock. Why us? Why me? I don't deserve this. I've never done anything wrong.

Maybe the truth is that this is a random event. That if there was a God, he was blindfolded while selecting disaster areas. Isn't all chaos random, anyway? And there is always chaos. Even in the most controlled life of the most controlling man, chaos will prevail and so will disaster because things simply have to fall apart. Have to crumble. Have to break.

Terrible things happen to good people and rapists win the lottery. Love can cease and vanish like a bubble or turn on us like a beloved pet gone wild. The world can shake and tremble beneath us with no warning.

Things fall apart, it's true. And yet out of disaster, comes something unexpected. Sometimes, when Murphy's Law strikes out with all it's might, people can find new strength within them to pull everything back together. They can be stronger than ever before, simply out of necessity. People try. People struggle and fight to the end, even while the world they know is shattering around them because they _have_ to fight. Things will always fall apart, but there will always be one person in the middle of it all, trying to hold it all together before the pieces hit the ground.

And it is in this, that one could posit that the soul really exists. That this strength is really, honestly proof of the soul. Why do we struggle? Even at a cellular level, life struggles onward. It pushes for existence, survival.

You see, the universe is based on simplicity. Everything in the world is spherical because it is the most efficient shape. Bubbles, cells, planets; the universe's mandate is in favour of efficiency. But surely, given what a messy, complicated world we live in, if we were ruled by science, we would give up; follow the rule of efficiency. Die, give in, give up. Giving up is simple. In fact, if the rule of efficiency was truly enforced, there would be no life at all. A blank and empty universe out there. Simple, efficient, uncomplicated.

Yet we fight to survive. Born of a big bang in cold, lonely space, we have struggled into existence. We were once cell in the sea and we managed to crawl out of it. We continue to evolve, to better ourselves and we fight against that simplicity and efficiency. That desire to fight, to exist; one could argue it to be the very existence of the soul. Our species above all is the most complicated, unruly species of them all. Yet, we still try. We push forward. We fight.

So when things are on the verge of destruction, that special kind of strength that forced us out of the sea, into evolution...it takes over. Survive. Protect. Fight.

Some say vampires do not have souls. They say they are soulless, empty creatures devoid of passion or love. Beings separate from the human race by more than immortality and blood lust. A persistent ideology indeed, but based on myth.

It would make more sense that these creatures feel _more_. Their soul immortalised forever, gaining more and more feeling without the weakening of approaching death.

But don't let me sway you.

You decide for yourself.

* * *

-**Rosalie-**

Emmett had been staring intently at me throughout the entire phone call, waiting patiently but with a clear sense of urgency. When I clicked the receiver shut, I couldn't move my eyes away from it for a good ten seconds or so.

"Babe?" he asked tentatively, touching my arm gently. "What is it? Who are we keeping safe?"

"Bella," I told him and blinked once or twice, hoping to regain control.

"Oh. From who?"

"Edward."

"Right. OK. What? Why?"

"Because Bella," I said, having to stop and take a breath. It was going to catch in my throat, the words surely couldn't form. But they were, I could feel it. "Is pregnant."

* * *

-**Jasper-**

I felt often as though I spent vast amounts of my time watching disasters of epic proportions from the sidelines, while the rest of my family were so much more involved. I had always preferred, deep down, to be more of an out of the way person, if I even had to be there in the first place. I would much rather be in our room, writing. I was struggling with the prologue of what would soon be a finished book. I hadn't even bothered with the epilogue yet. I was too hard to decide _where_ exactly to finish the book, let alone trying to decide how to sum up what I'd written in a meaningful, omniscient kind of way. But I thought maybe I had a good idea for a pseudonym, if a little unconventional.

But no. I was here. When necessity called I could always step up to the plate and take control; but given a choice, I would exactly where I was then, in the shadows, leaning somewhere away from the madness.

And madness, of course, was currently a very apt term.

I worked to contain a sigh. I honestly loved my family, I really did. That wasn't something I ever thought I'd genuinely feel, especially in the beginning when Alice had first dragged me to the Cullens with the promise of things I had never really wanted. Aside from Rosalie, I felt most of them worked too hard to be human when we were clearly _not_. There had been no instantaneous bond, not even really with Emmett despite how much I had liked him so early on. But now I really did love them and it was because of that fact that I was trying not to get annoyed by the sheer and utter amount of drama that they managed to get themselves into. _Again_.

By now I shouldn't have even been shocked that Edward had managed to get Bella pregnant. What did the laws of physics matter when it came to the Cullens? Not other vampires, just the Cullens. Rosalie and Edward in particular were fond of defying every natural and supernatural law known to man or beast and now it seemed Bella was eager to join in the family fun.

They weren't even back from Isle Esme yet and already it was war. There was a clear and distinct split in opinions of what decision was to be made. That had been made evident right from the off. What had shocked everyone, including me, was that Rosalie had taken it upon herself to head up _Team Let's Keep Bella Pregnant._ I already knew Edward's position from Carlisle, who felt the same and this decision of Rosalie's was going to badly damage her relationship with Carlisle and utterly destroy what little remained of her already fragile relationship with Edward.

It could be seen as a selfish act; that was what Carlisle and Alice were feeling. Keep Bella pregnant until she dies and leaves a little vampire baby behind. But I could feel the fierce protectiveness emanating from Rosalie and it was dismaying to know that she was heading in such a perilous direction, with nothing but genuinely good intentions to shield her from what was coming. For the first time, she was actually on Bella's side. Completely and for no alternate reason that I could sense.

Of course, not everyone was as sensitive to such nuances as I was.

"_How_ can you be so obstinate, Rosalie?" Carlisle demanded in a tone I had never heard him use with her. I knew that he had always loved Rosalie just a little more than the rest of us and the fact that he was shouting at her was unpleasant on a basic level. "This will kill Bella! How can it not?"

Rosalie held her own, not flinching away as she should have. "She can be strong, I know it."

Alice let out a noise of disgust. "Oh, Rosalie! You hate Bella and we all know it! Please do _not_ suddenly come out in support of her insane scheme over some belief in her strength of character!"

Rosalie remained impressively indifferent. "I won't let anyone hurt her. It's as simple as that."

Alice threw her hands up and turned to Carlisle who fixed Rosalie with a stern glare. "Rosalie Hale, do you understand what will happen to her if we don't get that thing out of her? How much pain she will endure? How horribly she will die?"

"I won't let her die. I'll protect her. She can do this, I just know it and she knows it too. Bella is stronger than we give her credit for. Look at how often her life is put in danger, every day with her complete lack of coordination, living with and loving a vampire, flirting with a werewolf on the side and still surviving! She _can do this_!"

Carlisle nodded. "It's important to you that she does this, isn't it Rosalie? So that when she dies, ripped apart and broken from the inside out, there will be a little baby desperately needing a mother. I suppose you'll humbly offer your services, will you?"

She crossed her arms. "Bella will survive. I'll ensure that."

The mood shifted as everyone sensed the double entendre. "Meaning what?" Emmett asked quietly, standing by her side.

Her resolve was unwavering. "Meaning I'll turn her myself, as soon as she's given birth. Sooner if I have to."

Carlisle put his face in his hands, trying to control his voice. "Do you realise what Edward will do when he hears this?"

She shrugged, to the world supremely unconcerned, but I felt the first ripple of fear being held at bay. I shook my head silently in the shadows. I could clearly see now where this road paved with good intentions was going to lead her.

Alice stepped forward, her hands help up in a placatory manner. "Why are you doing this, Rose? Please, tell us why?"

Rosalie looked at her sister evenly. "Because Bella asked me to. Wouldn't you have done the same, had she called _you_?"

"No," Carlisle answered before Alice could speak. "We would do what's best for Bella, what she ultimately cannot ask for herself because she's probably under massive chemical influence at the moment. God only knows what that _thing_ is doing to her."

"It makes no difference, Carlisle. Bella has asked me to protect her and I will." Even I was impressed with the stony, immovable underline of her words.

"This is stupid," Alice said, reaching inside her pocket. "I'll cut you off at the knees, Rose. I'll just call Edward and warn him and he won't even let you get _near_ Bella."

But Rosalie just smiled faintly. Alice dialled lightning fast while Rosalie waited patiently, with no concern whatsoever. I sensed she had already taken care of that.

It didn't connect, simply giving Alice a redundant message informing her the line was currently unavailable. She glared at Rosalie.

"What did you _do_?"

"Bella took his phone while he wasn't looking and destroyed it. If anyone but me calls her, she won't answer it. No-one but me knows what plane they're on or what time they're due to land and unless you want to make a Volturi Worthy scene at the airport, I suggest you all take a more diplomatic approach. I will protect Bella with everything I have and getting in the way of that would be a mistake."

It was quite hair raising, really, even though I couldn't begin to fathom her motives.

"I'll help you," Emmett said, wrapping his arm around his wife comfortingly. I had to admire his blind faith in her sometimes; though there was no denying that he was in pain with what was happening, he stood by her no questions asked.

"So will I," Esme said, from the end of the table, giving Carlisle an apologetic look.

"And I will too," I said coming out of the shadows for the first time in a while. "I'll help."

Alice didn't even look at me, but I felt the fury radiating off her in waves.

"So that's final then, is it?" Carlisle asked, sounding a little heartbroken. Esme agreeing to help had taken all the wind out of his sails in one fell swoop. "Five against three?"

"It's what Bella wants. Ultimately it is her choice," Rosalie stated with a strength I hadn't seen her dredge up in a long time.

"It will kill her," Carlisle said, strangely hollow. "It will tear her apart until she's in pieces and we don't even know what it is!"

"It's Bella and Edward's baby," Rosalie said, as though that was obvious to the world. "And I won't let anyone die."

"They both will," Carlisle said quietly. "And it will be on your hands."

And if I had thought Carlisle and Alice hadn't given Rosalie an easy time of things, it was nothing to how completely insane Edward went.

One of the first things that happened at the airport that really began the clash of the titans style argument, was Bella running into Rosalie's arms, _away_ from Edward. The pain that Edward felt then was astounding. Deep down, he had always harboured a fear that one day Bella would see him for what he was; a monster. And she would run away from him screaming and begging for help from anyone.

That fear was intense in those moments that Bella ran from him, into the waiting protection of Rosalie's arms. It was strange, really. I struggled to recall a time when Rosalie and Bella had even touched, let alone embraced. But apparently that made no difference whatsoever to Rosalie; she took Bella in her arms as though she had done it a thousand times before, held her close and safe and Edward's pain turned violently into scathing hatred and understanding and a fury akin to nothing I had ever felt in all my years. He let out a growl and Rosalie held Bella away from him, keeping them apart.

It was fairly surreal, even for our family. To see _Rosalie_ protecting _Bella_ from _Edward_. I began to wonder what alternate reality we had actually slipped into.

Rosalie took Bella back to the house in her car, with Emmett and Esme. Carlisle and Edward were deep in conversation; no doubt planning some scheme to get around Rose and Emmett, myself and Esme but I heard the weakening in Carlisle's voice. He would not oppose his wife and Edward knew it. He was begging Carlisle to help him in any way possible.

"We could put something in her drink," he was insisting fervently. "Chemical miscarriage."

But Carlisle was quick to burst his bubble. "I doubt that will work. The rate of growth seems to be extreme; as such the foetus will be stronger than usual. You said she _felt _it move?"

Edward swallowed. "Yes."

"Then I'm not even sure it would work with a stronger dosage. Surgery would be the only option."

"Then we have to get her _bodyguards_ out of the way. Carlisle, you _have _to make Rosalie stand down! How could you allow this to happen! How could you not warn me?"

I left them to their tirade in search of Alice. I had barely spoken a word to her over the last few hours and she had not uttered one syllable to me. I knew she was angry with me; seeing it as yet another betrayal of her trust and of our relationship. It was difficult, being with Alice. She could be so capricious sometimes. She was someone of her own mind, her own spirit and essence and yet she deeply resented me sometimes for making my own decisions that did not include her.

She was waiting for me by our car, much to my surprise. "Hey," she said softly, looking down at the ground.

"Hey," I replied, waiting for her to speak, hoping it would be some kind of an olive branch.

"So," she hesitated and then said, "We should go."

I sighed, disappointed. "I'll go with Edward and Carlisle," I said and turned away.

"You can't," she called after me, sounding almost confused. "You're not on their side."

I laughed. "Nothing is black and white, Alice. You of all people should know that."

* * *

**-Bella-**

They had been screaming like that for almost an hour now and it was making me feel sick. Humans would have been completely hoarse, throats raw and stripped but they were vampires and they could scream forever, I guessed. I kept my shaking hands on my stomach the entire time, as if covering my baby's ears, trying to protect him from the noise. I couldn't stop trembling the entire time. I had never heard Edward so much as raise his voice in my presence and now he was full out screaming. It was terrifying.

I could hear everything. Did they know that? I could hear every word they were saying and I didn't think I had ever felt this bad about anything in my entire life. I began to fervently wish I hadn't called Rosalie now. Edward seemed to take it as a deep and personal betrayal that I had called Rosalie above everyone else, but I'd had no one else to turn to. Rosalie was the only one I _knew_ would help me; Alice would have agreed over the phone, but ultimately turned me over to Edward as soon as he asked because she always deferred to his judgement. Rosalie was my only choice; she had no real attachment to Edward and I knew how she felt about babies.

I flinched suddenly as something from the room three doors down smashed into a wall. My little nudger flinched within, as if expressing his displeasure at such a raucous.

"YOU SCHEMING, TREACHEROUS BITCH! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WAITING FOR A CHANCE LIKE THIS, TELL ME!" Edward was screaming in a way that made me turn cold.

"I'M NOT THE ONE WHO _**GOT HER PREGNANT IN THE FIRST PLACE!"**_

Another innocent object was hurled against a wall while I tried, rather desperately, to find a distraction. Any distraction. Why had everyone abandoned me here alone in Edward's room? No TV, nothing. It really wasn't helpful to be left alone while having to listen to world war three only a few rooms away.

"YOU WILL NOT GO AGAINST ME ON THIS ONE, ROSALIE, YOU WILL _**NOT**_!"

"BECAUSE YOU SAY SO? I WASN'T INTIMIDATED BY CARLISLE AND I WON'T BE INTIMIDATED BY YOU, SO SHOUT ALL YOU WANT!" I had to admire Rosalie's resilience. This was, ultimately why I had chosen her, because she would not be browbeaten by Edward and how ferociously he would fight to get rid of our baby from within me.

"BELLA IS NOT IN HER RIGHT MIND, WHY WON'T YOU SEE THAT?"

"SHE WAS SANE ENOUGH TO MAKE A PHONE CALL ASKING FOR HELP!"

Maybe at this point, Edward had thrown a table at her. I couldn't really tell, but it sounded large. The walls shook.

"OH YES, THROW THAT IN MY FACE! I CAN'T _**BELIEVE**_ THAT OF ALL PEOPLE, SHE CAME RUNNING TO _**YOU**_!"

"AND THAT IS WHAT REALLY UPSETS YOU, ISN'T IT?"

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO HELP HER? YOU WERE WISHING HER DEAD LESS THAN A YEAR AGO!"

There were other voices then and the shouting came to an abrupt halt. I heard murmuring, but no distinct words. Perhaps Esme's voice, but I wasn't sure. Whoever it was, they were giving strict, but quiet advice about something. I heard Edward say something, but I couldn't make out what and then a door slammed and it all went horribly quiet.

The door to Edward's room opened and Rosalie came in, looking shockingly calm and composed considering what I'd just heard.

"Bella," she, not even sounding out of breath. "How are you feeling?"

I knew I was gaping slightly. "Uh, how are _you?"_ I asked, feeling stupid as my voice quivered.

She smiled and bent down in front of me, stroking my hair back off of my damp forehead. I hadn't even realised I was sweating. Her cold hands felt nice.

"I'm fine. Sorry about all that. Edward can't quite get over the fact that I'm helping you. He believes I'm plotting some evil scheme to let you die and steal your baby."

There was a tiny weeny percentage of uncertainty that made me want to ask if that was a valid question, but I held it back. I would have to trust Rosalie from now on, above anyone else.

"Is he furious with me?" I asked instead, timidly. "I mean, I'd understand if he was."

"No, he's angry with me, not you. Don't trouble yourself with his tantrums."

"Oh. I'm really sorry about that, Rose," I said, feeling like a pathetic child. What good did it do to apologising to her after what I'd just heard?

She waved a dismissive hand. "It's nothing," she said like she meant it. "It's not like Edward and I ever really had a good relationship anyway. No big loss."

I thought maybe I saw some deep kind of sadness in her eyes then, but it was masterfully whisked away before I could determined if it was genuine or mere passing light.

"Anyway, we have to get you somewhere safe. You can't stay here in this house. Emmett and I have a place a few miles away we sometimes go to. You can stay there and we can protect you, keep you safe and..."

"No," I begged, interrupting her. "Please, I want to be near him. Please. I'm sorry, I know this makes things difficult for you. But I can't leave him. I can't. He might...he might come around, you know?"

She nodded, smiling. "Of course. If that's what you want."

"It is," I said breathlessly, caught in a tide of gratitude. "Thank you, Rosalie. Thank you so much."

"It's nothing," she said and I wished I had striven to make more of an effort with Rosalie before this. She was so _nice_. "Plus it's not just me. It's Emmett, Jasper and Esme too."

"I know," I said, unconsciously, stroking the swell of my stomach. Baby was calming down now, poor little thing. "But it means more from you. I know you've never really liked me."

"There are more important things," she told me, gently squeezing my hand with an intense look. "Much more important things."

"I know. It's going to be so difficult. I wish I could repay you, Rosalie."

She shook her head, sweeping a stray lock of perfect golden hair back as she did. "Completely unnecessary, Bella. Let me assure you."

"But Rosalie," I said putting my hand on her wrist. "Why?"

She tilted her head, considering. "Because it's the right thing to do. This baby is going to be a miracle. Edward can't see that because he doesn't think he's good, that he deserves a miracle. But I know he does. You both do."

I smiled. She had called my baby a miracle. The first and, I suspected, only person to do so yet. I felt the same, deep down. Though I felt violently sick, my back hurt like crazy and I was starving hungry, I still felt that my little nudger was a miracle. It warmed me to Rosalie in a way I had never thought possible. She seemed to pick up on it because she smiled back.

"It's going to be fine, Bella. You'll see. Everything will be fine."

And though I should have been sceptical, I couldn't help but want to believe her.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

_'Well,_' that cold, sceptical part of mind drawled from the distances I had shunned her to. _'Isn't this just peachy?'_

"Shut up," I warned her, uselessly. The exercise was futile. The more I acknowledged her, the stronger she got.

'_Are we having fun yet? Playing the martyr quite enough? Or do we need a bigger crucifix?'_

She spoke with the distinct air of intended boredom, as if she might be filing her nails, but I knew she meant to hurt me. Or, _I_ meant to hurt me. My head was starting to hurt again.

I was washing sick from Bella's clothes for the second time that day. It was sweet and acidic; somehow it still smelled better than cafeteria food, only this time she had thrown up a small amount of blood with it. It was not normal for a pregnant woman to vomit blood, but Carlisle said it was something to do with the strength of the foetus, hurting her from the inside. She had been sick on her favourite shirt and had protested all my offers of throwing it away in favour of a new one. She said it still had the faint scent of Edward. Personally, I thought it was just the blood and sick but far be it from me to deny her romantic attachments.

_'Washing Bella Swan's bloody vomit, are we? Splendid. I suppose later we can brush her hair again and make that tea she likes. Maybe a foot rub too. I hear it prevents varicose veins, you know. But of course, you wouldn't know that, would you?'_

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, willing her into silence. I scrubbed harder, ignoring the increasing amount of steam filing the en suit bathroom. The water was scalding, enough to burst frail human flesh, but it barely even felt warm to me.

_'Of course not,'_ she went on, gaining stride. _'How silly of me to forget. You can't have a baby, so you're settling for Bella's, am I right? Or should I say, Edward's?'_

"I'm not even listening to you," I said weakly, furiously scrubbing the increasingly fragile shirt. Soon it would rip apart like wet tissue.

She laughed. _'But you are. Because I know the truth as well as you do, and it sickens me to know why you're doing this. What your pathetic reasons are for this...this endeavour.'_

"You don't _know_, you don't know anything!" I hissed.

_'I know you better than anyone, idiot. I am you, remember?'_

The shirt finally gave way and the worn cotton split. I sighed and threw it back into the bowl of hot water. I would have taken it to the dry cleaners of course, but I couldn't leave Bella alone in the house without Emmett nearby.

_'Oh dear. Look what you've done.'_

I stared blindly at the ruined material, the pink bubbly water around and it felt like I was falling without hope of ever stopping. It was these moments that I dreaded the most; moments when I was alone with nothing but my own mind, determined to destroy me. With others, Bella, Emmett, Esme...even Jasper, I felt safer. Caught up in the strength of my convictions, but without them I was drowning in doubt and despair, facing the sheer irreversibility of my actions and the damage it was doing every minute of every day to what Edward and I had once had.

He had screamed. He had threatened. He had begged. He had scathed. He had cried.

But I couldn't waver. Couldn't give in or bend to his will, because I just...couldn't. I had to do this, I just had to.

_'Such a moving soliloquy,'_ she sighed. _'Shame no one is here to witness it. No Romeo hanging off the vines, out of sight listening to every word. You shut him out nicely, didn't you?'_

"I had to," I told her, numbly. "It was for the best."

_'For the best, for the best!' _she sneered, no longer mocking and sarcastic. _'How _dare_ you take him away from me? Cut him out to make room for your good intentions! I want no part of your road to hell, I want what you have denied me for too long!'_

I shook my head against the noise within. "It's not that simple!"

_'It is the simplest thing in the world! You have let others complicate and corrupt the most simple, perfect thing we have ever known! You with all your excuses and good intentions! Deep down we both know that you're still that little girl, violated and confused and you can't bear the to look into the burning bright light anymore! You've grown weak with age, blunt and dull with so many years and you have pushed away what was only ever supposed to be a part of us! How dare you wash her clothes and put her above him! I would rend her limb from limb should you even lend me reign again!'_

"But I am not you anymore!" I yelled at no one. "I am not _you _ and you are not in control so shut up!"

There was a full moment of silence. But of course, it was too good to be true. I heard her resentful voice there inside my mind once more.

_'So you cut me off, cut me out, like you did to him? You disgrace me, Rosalie. You disgrace us both.'_

I looked down at my trembling hands, holding the ruined item of clothing and tried to hold it together, just a little longer. That was all I had been telling myself lately. Hold it together, hold it in. But it couldn't be much longer now until it all came crashing down.

_'I'm counting the minutes,'_ she swore to me fervently.

"Oh I bet you are!" I finally snapped. "I bet you can't wait, you vindictive bitch!"

"Uh...Rosalie? Who are you talking to?"

Of all the moments for Jasper to utilise his unique ability to slink in and out of rooms without anyone noticing.

I whirled around, caught unprepared for an actual being and not my cruel imagination.

"Jasper!" I squeaked, most undignified. What must I have looked like? Hair in complete disarray, jeans and and old flannel shirt of Emmett's, holding pieces of Bella's shirt whilst screaming at thin air. His intense look of concern was completely justified.

"Yes, Rose, it's me," he said slowly as if words spoken too fast might actually cause my fragile brain to implode. "What are you, uh...what's up?"

Jasper and vernacular slang. They did not go hand in hand. He was making an effort to seem casual. I wondered, remotely, just _how_ insane I actually seemed. Funny how that bitch had vanished completely now.

"I was..." What _was_ I doing? Oh yes. "I was washing Bella's shirt. More vomit. But it, uh...it ripped apart."

"One sympathises," he quipped, but there was none of his usual dry humour there. Only concern and love and desperation for me to feel that everything was normal. Like it had once been. The corners of my mouth pulled up a little at the memories of Jasper and I sitting in the library, plotting Bella Swan's grisly death. That seemed so long ago now. How had that only been a year ago? _How_? It seemed decades now, when Bella Swan was not my problem. When I could picture her death and smile at the thought of it. A time before I had become so horrendously invested in Edward's happiness, which now, inevitably, meant Bella.

He sighed and came to stand beside me. "Alice still hates me," he said and I could have cried with relief that he was offering me a different subject to grab hold of. "I've tried everything."

"Flowers?"

"She hates them."

"Jewellery?"

"I can never get it right."

"Sex?"

He snorted. "Chance would be a fine thing." He immediately seemed to regret saying that, but he didn't rush to correct it which meant a lot. "It's not that, it happens, I guess. To a lot of couples, right? You and Emmett have that, right?"

I threw the soggy pieces of cotton on the floor with resignation. I would buy her a new one now and she would have to like it. "Of course," I told him. "There have been months at a time when we haven't...y'know." I sighed and looked down. "Love is a complicated thing. Most of the time though, we're very intimate, very often."

He paused; I could practically feel him choosing his words.

"What about...you and Edward?" he asked quietly.

"It's different," I said shortly, although I didn't want to be rude. How could I ever explain that? Why would I want to even try? I honestly didn't want to hurt his feelings. He had been so kind to me lately, so supportive even though a lot of the time it felt smothering. It was nice to have someone truly on my side, especially in this climate.

"Rose," he said, but hesitated and I stiffened, wishing for anything but this conversation. Everyone had had this conversation with me. The '_Rosalie, why are you doing this?' _conversation and I had run out of things to tell people at this point.

"Don't, Jazz," I said softly. "Please let's just talk about something else. Anything else."

He pinched the bridge of his nose; a gesture I had not seen for a while until now. It indicated an overwhelming sense of helplessness on his part. "How can we, Rose? I'm trying, I really am, but you have to take a look at what you're doing. Step out of yourself for a moment and look at what it is you're actually _doing_."

"Jasper, I can't. Please, please try and see that," I begged.

"Make me see it, Rosalie. Make me see why this is so important. Make me see why Bella is suddenly more important than Edward, because I can't! No-one can!"

"It's not about Bella being more important to me than Edward," I said.

"Try telling him that," he replied gravely and it brought me up short.

"What?" What do you mean?"

He gave an uncharacteristic eye roll. "I swear to God, you two will be the death of me. Do you honestly think Edward is only angry because you're opposing him?"

I knew there was logic approaching fast, but he was using _that_ name far too much. It was like a punch to the stomach each time he uttered even the first syllable. I shook my head and held up my hand, pleading for him to stop.

"Jazz, please. This isn't the time. I have to get back to Bella. She's too unwell to move at the moment and I...I can't leave her."

I moved towards the door, just as he said, "Is she really worth losing everything for, Rosalie? Is this baby worth losing Edward? I can't believe that. How can you?"

I struggled for solid ground, for anything to hold on to; I tried to calm myself so I could give Jasper a reassuring answer. There had to be one inside me somewhere, didn't there? But nothing was forthcoming so I dredged up a long lost smile instead and turned away.

* * *

The next day, it began to get considerably worse.

What had originated as a voice inside my mind, scathing and disturbing, had evolved into something much more powerful and tangible. It first happened when I was driving my car into town for supplies for a most unfortunate Bella who had taken to vomiting so much that she was losing significant bodily fluids. She now required saline solution, which would have to be administered intravenously while she was sleeping. Usually I would simply go to Carlisle for such things, but he wasn't even speaking to me so I had to go in search of the items on my own.

It was during that car journey, that it happened for the first time.

I was driving fast, it was very relaxing to watch the world go speeding by at such a pace and the further away I got, the more calm I started to feel. Distance, it seemed, was certainly a remedy at present. It was late, around midnight and I would have to break into a hospital to get some of the things I would need. Not Carlisle's hospital of course, hence why I was journeying to far out of the way. It was a little worrying how good it felt to put Forks in the rear view mirror.

I played around with the stereo, flicking through several songs on a CD looking for one I liked. I settled for an old favourite by Annie Lennox, '_Don't Let It Bring You Down' _and I hummed along when I heard the voice.

_'I like this one, turn it up.'_

All my fragile tranquillity exploded like blown glass. I was about to tell her that she wasn't real, that she didn't exist when I caught sight of something next to me in the car.

It was me. Her. Us. Whatever it was, it was her sitting there, wearing clothes I hadn't seen in decades, her hair in a way I never styled mine now and looking extremely arrogant, examining a nail with purposeful disinterest.

I looked away quickly, trying to focus on the road. It wouldn't do to crash the car again. How would I explain it this time? Edward would not come running to save me.

_'So, where are we going?' _she asked casually. I shook my head, trying to make her go away. She had to go away. _'Shopping? Alice's birthday is coming up. I was thinking of those shoes she loved, the one's she had two months ago but the heel broke. Maybe we could find a replica pair.'_

"You're not real," I managed to say, but it was shaky and weak and she wasn't remotely interested in anything I had to say apparently.

_'But of course we're not going shopping. We're running an errand for Bella. Lovely Bella Swan.'_

I chanced a quick glance in her direction and to my horror she was still there; she seemed solid enough, real enough as if my reflection from fifty or so years ago had come alive.

"Please," I begged. "I have to go get supplies, please don't do this now."

_'You realise that if we had killed her when the thought first occurred, none of this would be happening right now. We would be with Edward right now. He would be ours, as he was always meant to be.'_

"He loves her. How could I destroy that which he loves?"

_'He loves many things, but what he felt for us was never love! Foolish, diluted human affection and companionship! Yes he loves Bella, as he loves many a thing and person, but between him and us was something different. Something beyond words. And you have destroyed it so he may keep one of his many little toys.'_

"I haven't destroyed it!" I yelled and the car swerved dangerously. "He will forgive me, he has to forgive me!"

When she didn't reply, I turned to look but she was long gone and I was left with the sickest feeling of my life.

* * *

Days passed in a blur of vomit and sweat and fear. All of it Bella's, but the fear was mine also. She was already showing a prominent bump where there should be nothing to show at all. The child inside of her was moving, growing at an alarming rate and I could not help but fear for Bella's stomach; it would split open soon if the rate of growth did not cease. She struggled to be brave but she was in an intense amount of pain and nothing I could do could relieve it. I did not leave her side except to fetch things for her and most of the time, Esme or Emmett obliged in that department.

The first time the baby kicked was the first time I had ever heard Bella scream. She bent double in agony, trying to breathe and when I examined her stomach there were several freshly blossoming bruises there; evidence of cracked ribs undoubtedly. Her scream had brought Edward running into the room, shoving past Emmett and even Esme. It was the first time I had seen him since we had fought and I couldn't stop staring at how awful he looked. Almost as bad as Bella. He seemed to be lost for words and Bella, true to form, actually managed a smile and begged him to come closer so she would hold his hand.

I stayed close to Bella for the entire duration of their encounter; Edward didn't look at me once, he simply knelt down beside her, holding her small pale hand in his while whispering pleas for her to listen to him; to let him get it out while there was still time. But she only smiled and said she knew what she was doing. She reminded me of Melanie Hamilton from _Gone With The Wind._ Foolishly devoted and self-sacrificing, even in the midst of her demise.

While he was holding her hand, the baby kicked again and she tried not to scream, but she needn't have troubled herself. He could see just how much pain she was in and it seemed to destroy him. For the first time, he looked up at me with eyes black from God only knows what emotions, eating him alive.

"This has gone far enough now," he said, voice rough and unstable. "Look at her. It's killing her. You've tried and I...I could understand that. You tried to...help her and...but now it's hurting her. This has to stop now."

The mere fact that he was looking at me, _talking_ to me was terrifying. Even although it had only been a few day since he had been screaming at me, it felt a lot longer and I was unprepared to have him suddenly acknowledging my existence, let alone speak to me in a moderately civilised way.

I felt everyone looking at me, as if this was my decision to make. Instead of replying or even bothering to point out that _of course_ it wasn't my decision, I looked down at Bella, waiting for her answer.

She looked like she was on the verge of tears, after hearing him. "Oh Edward," she said softly. "Do you really have to call our baby '_it_'?"

Even I was a little shocked at that, but it was message enough for everyone, including Edward, that now was not the time to voluntarily give in. He seemed to pale a little more and his eyes darkened. It was like watching a film in colour that slowly began to shift into black and white as time passed. He turned his gaze upon me once more.

"And if I was to take Bella now?" he asked me, devoid of any emotion besides misery. "You would stop me, wouldn't you? If I tried to save her, like I have done before, you would prevent me?"

There was nothing else to say but, "Yes."

His eyes burned into mine with all the intensity of a black hole; ever expanding and highly unstable. Maybe I had gone too far now. Maybe now he would close the distance between us and not to kiss me, or to hold me – he never would again – but to kill me. To tear me apart, quite literally. It was thrilling enough to make me feel just that much more sane, real and somehow connected to the world.

But I received no such attention. He turned abruptly away, shoving past Emmett once more who followed him out of the room, urgently calling his name and Bella burst into loud, wretched sobs. I knelt beside her, an automatic response really, and gave her hollow words of comfort. I couldn't even see her; all I could see, burned into my retina, were those black eyes searing through my very soul. They were all I saw for the rest of that day, no matter where I looked or how tightly I closed my eyes. The voice inside me had nothing to say, but her silence spoke volumes.

* * *

The decision to throw myself completely into taking care of Bella was an easy one to make, I quickly discovered after that. It became evident that all I was surrounded by, when not tending to Bella, was hatred, pity or an unbearable mixture of both, diluted by a sense of obligatory, familial love. Even in the moments I stole for myself, moments I could be alone, I was set upon by memories too bitter to even entertain. They stung in the back of my throat and burned at my eyes, causing me to lose what little grip I had left on reality and sanity.

Taking care of Bella was no easy task, either. I had never heard or seen anything remotely like what she was undergoing. It was extraordinary, from a medical perspective at least. The rate of growth was astounding; any doubt about the baby being something like us, something supernatural was wiped away immediately after it had kicked for the first time. Because of this incredible growth rate, Bella was suffering terribly. It was almost destroying her from the inside out, but she was showing a strength that I nor anyone else had expected from her. The baby kicked and kicked and she held it together, despite the pain she must have been enduring. Ribs cracked and broke. She was feverish at times, crying out for Edward, begging him to come to her and sometimes he would. Sometimes he wouldn't. I never left her side during the time he did and he made his loathing apparent for it.

It was quite clear that, by this point, he had never hated anything more in his life. Any bond between us, was now gone forever.

But there was no time or reason to mull that over, not now. Bella's chance of surviving this ordeal was dancing on razorblades and any moment that I wasn't focused on her was a risk.

Early that morning, Bella had fallen out of bed trying to move herself. It was a stupid mistake on my part, leaving her alone for a moment while cleaning the sick bowl and she'll fallen hard. Her screams brought me running and though she seemed all right, besides a dozen more bruises to add to the collection, it shook me. So much had been sacrificed already for this baby and if it was lost...it would be unbearable.

The incident had led to a massive argument between Carlisle and myself, once again. This time he was insisting that we move her out of mine and Emmett's room and into one of the larger rooms downstairs, closer to amenities and other things Bella might require. He made a good argument to be fair; it was true that keeping her upstairs caused many problems. Her insistence on walking up and down them to seek out Edward was certainly a problem. Also, the bathroom with the largest bath was downstairs and she could only take baths at this point. She could set herself up on the sofa or they would bring a bed down for her; whatever she wanted.

But it would also make it a lot easier for Carlisle and Edward to grab Bella and run out of the front door, car waiting right outside. So I objected and it caused a painful, very loud argument which was only broken up by Esme in the end.

I didn't mention the idea to Bella, but somehow she sensed it anyway and asked if she could go downstairs for a while. She said she was getting cabin fever from being in the same place for so long and that she wanted to go downstairs for a while.

She begged, pleaded and in the end I gave in but on the understanding that it was only for a while. It pleased her greatly and with help from Emmett, we moved her downstairs.

Edward was already downstairs, making the sofa more comfortable for her it seemed.

"Hey," he said to her and she smiled like I hadn't seen her smile in a long time. "I'm glad you're coming downstairs. Are you feeling better?"

The hope in his voice was unbearable. I gently lowered her onto the plump cushions and she nodded vigorously. "Yes, much."

But he must have heard someone's thoughts; mine or Emmett's perhaps, because I could tell her didn't believe her and what tiny light had been detectable in his eyes, died instantly. His pain was like the loudest sound I have ever heard, but locked away in a sound proof room. I knew if I opened the door, it would deafen and undoubtedly destroy me.

"Uh, I think we have a visitor," Carlisle said as he came into the room. He smelled of fresh air and just the faintest trace of leather. I wondered if he _had_ actually been waiting in the car for Edward to decide whether or not she was well enough to be moved.

"What?" Alice demanded from behind me. She swept past towards the window and swore violently. "Black," she announced finally. "He's here."

* * *

**_-Sunday 13__th__ August 2006-_**

**_-Edward-_**

_The truth was, it should have been much harder to leave my newly wedded wife alone with a man who would happily whisk her away in the blink of an eye, but it wasn't. Not to imply for one second that it was an easy decision, because it certainly was not. Still, I managed to do it which should have been some indication of...well, something. _

_Inside, some beautiful song was playing and many couples were slow dancing. I saw Alice, Emmett and Carlisle speaking to Charlie in the corner by the punch fountain. Jasper and Esme were speaking to Renee. _

_And I found her without having to even look. _

_She was sitting by herself at the family table, tapping her fingers along the side of the crystal flute; dry and empty. I came to stand beside her and she turned, sensing my presence. _

"_Care to dance, Miss Hale?" I asked her, offering my hand upon which now sat my wedding ring. _

_She cast her eyes up at me and I was hit hard by how impossibly beautiful she looked. How beautiful she _was_. Seemingly uncertain, she hesitated. Of course, we were not on the best of terms just then, but it was an occasion I knew I simply couldn't miss, despite the circumstances. _

"_Why?" she asked quietly, so no-one but myself could detect it. _

"_Because," I told her, leaning in close. "I believe you promised me, a long time ago, that you would."_

_A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and I fought to suppress how happy it made me to see even that tiniest of smiles cross her face. She stood and gave me her hand and we walked together onto the floor as the song played. _

"_Congratulations," she said after a moment of swaying together. It felt ridiculously intimate that we were dancing together and the memory of the last time I had danced with her was strangling me but I fought it back and maintained my countenance. _

"_Thank you," I said. Her hand in mine was obscenely perfect; this had been a bad idea, perhaps. Everywhere that we were touching felt too good, too wonderful and it demanded _more, more, more.

"_It was a beautiful ceremony." I understood her need to break the silence; even though I still furious with her, it was impossible not to feel the bond between us when we were moving like this against one another's bodies. Souls close enough that they could see one another. Faces far too close, even though we were both leaning away. "Bella looks beautiful."_

"You're_ beautiful," I said before I could stop myself. I felt her reaction against me; she started, as if shocked. _

"_My husband is over there," she whispered fiercely. _

"_And my wife is outside and you are still beautiful."_

_I don't know why I had said it; the words had formed without my express consent. _

_She looked at me, really looked at me as if she saw right down into me; it had been too long since I had felt the full weight of her gaze and now I was struggling against it, weakened by too much time without it. _

'And what of time and love and obligation now, Mr Cullen?'_ she thought and that shocked me because I had been struggling to block her out for some time now. _

"_They are," I leaned in closer and whispered. "what they have always been."_

_She studied me for a moment with those eyes that I knew better than my own. She was my Rosalie, mine; always mine. How could she even question...?_

_But before I could think of something else, more significant to say, she withdrew politely and I realised the song had finished. _

"_Thank you for the dance," she said quietly and left me alone once more._

* * *

Jacob Black was one of the most irritating, vile people I had ever encountered. From the very off, his tone and insouciance set my teeth on edge and my skin prickling with instinctual dislike.

And as it turned out, the feeling was mutual.

I could have rattled on endlessly about why I despised him so much, after having spent so little time in his nauseating presence, but ultimately I got the feeling it was because of his pathetic teenage crush on Bella. I was strongly certain that this was the reason why, but I didn't know _why_ it was the reason why. His attitude towards her was possessive, as if she was his play thing and we were all messing it up, refusing to return it. What was worse was that Bella seemed absolutely thrilled to see him, at the prospect of spending time with him as if he wasn't a revolting swine who needed breaking in two for even daring to look at me that way.

It had been a while now since the old Rosalie had had a chance to really get into a passionate rant about how much she hated someone and I was pleased to give her Jacob Black as a worthy substitute for Bella Swan.

I suspected on some level that it had something to do with how much Edward disliked him, but I carefully ignored that little theory, along with the worrying fact that I was now referring to myself in third person. We were well over the bleeding effect by now, surely and such musings were not helpful at this stage.

For the next two days I was caught between the desire to help Bella and keep her calm and the strong need to rip the arrogant little bastard's head off. The latter, I suspected, would not be conducive in bringing about the former.

It had brought about an unexpected event however. Upon Jacob Black's arrival, Edward had insisted that I let them speak privately. Against my better judgement, I did as he asked, maybe due to the deadened tone of his voice.

Everyone left at Bella's request and the moment we were outside, Edward yanked me aside by the upper arm into a room nearby and slammed the door shut behind him.

I flinched, expecting at the very least to be hit – at the worst, to be torn limb from limb, but neither happened. Instead I found myself shoved unceremoniously against a nearby wall and then he was kissing me. Kissing me with a frenzied kind of despair that shook me to my core. I was kissing him back, _of course I was kissing him back_. It was Edward. But it couldn't last long, I knew it in some unwilling part of my mind that had not succumbed to the sheer force of the desire to just get completely lost inside of him.

There were no words. He was everywhere, everything and I had forgotten how it could feel when we were like this. Oh God, how had I forgotten? His mouth devouring mine, every breath swallowed, every movement tracked and copied. His hands tangled in my hair, trying to tangle badly enough that they would never untangle again it seemed and there were desperate little sobs every now and then but I didn't care. It seemed that third person Rosalie had seized her opportunity well and truly and wasn't going to let go without a fight. And I remembered that _I was_ her, too. I let myself become that younger, wilder version without hesitation and I knew he felt it, sensed it, because he pulled me up so I could wrap my legs around him. I obliged clumsily and my hands were grabbing at his belt, yanking it open. Need pulsed through me viciously; a dying man's thirst upon seeing the last bottle of water on earth. The world narrowed dangerously and I forgot his name, but it was _him. Him. Us. _

No words passed between us, neither could form them. It was only a matter of seconds before the belt gave way and he was working with me now to remove other offending items.

And then...there we were. Together. Inside. I could have cried; it was completion at it's most dangerous levels. The anger, frustration, fear and despair all melted away, slipped from view completely and I wanted, needed him to move. I urged him to do so and when he did, he buried his face in my neck to conceal his cries. This room, I vaguely remembered, was not sound proof and we were recklessly close to the room where his _pregnant wife was_.

He reached up and put his hand over my mouth, as if he could silence my thoughts by doing so. The heat was unbearable, tension and rolling pleasure building in the pit of my stomach and _how_ in the name of God had I ever thought this wouldn't happened again?

He threw his head back to reclaim my mouth and he was whispering my name, barely breathing it in fact but I could make it out. I gripped him too tight to be anything other than painful; I felt like I wanted to break him, break us both so we could mould together.

"Mine," he whispered, breath playing across my lips and it set me alight. I scissored my legs tight enough around his waist to snap him in half. His pace was frantic and desperate. "Say you're mine," he said softly, punctuated by his ragged breathing.

"I'm yours," I somehow managed. "Always."

He dug his teeth into the flesh of my neck and it tipped me completely over the edge, bringing him tumbling along with me only a few seconds later.

The moments after that were blurred and indistinct; I was numb with an overdose of bitter-sweet pleasure and it took me a few seconds to realise he was crying, face hidden away against my neck.

There was nothing to think about. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight for the precious few moments we had before we both knew we had to separate once more. Reality would come calling and we would be back on opposing sides of a war that I was bound to lose.

I held onto those seconds for the next two days.

* * *

**-Esme-**

Sometimes the world was a strange place. I had learned years ago never to be fazed by anything I encountered and while that was still true, in effect, I still observed that some things in life were just plain...odd.

For instance, the fact that Rosalie and Edward hated one another for all intents and purposes, to the outside world especially. And yet, I had watched them leave the same room, dishevelled and messy in such a way that could leave no doubt as to what they had been doing. It should have been a source of concern, at the very least, but then I had known on some level that there were much more than sibling rivalry and unresolved tension between them. I felt it was not and would never be my place to step in a comment upon their undertakings, and because of this I was quite happy to ignore it, safe in the knowledge that they were always careful not to break the hearts of their significant other's. Rosalie and Edward were my first, in essence, and I had intended them to be together, perhaps before even they had realised it to be a possibility. It was such a thing that could never be explained to another person, not even Carlisle, but to me there was no cardinal sin to be found in the way they chose to seek solace. It was not my business and would never be, as far as I was concerned. They were my children and I loved and adored them, but that part of their life was for no-one but themselves.

The world was indeed strange.

"Lost in thought, my love?"

I jumped a little, unaware that Carlisle had been behind me. I didn't worry that he had seen anything like what I had seen; his voice was calm and warm. Not how it would be had he seen otherwise.

"Perhaps," I sighed and he wrapped his arms around my middle from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "And you?"

"Lost in worry," he admitted quietly. "Bella is sure to go into labour sometime in the next week or so. I am afraid, Esme. Afraid Edward will lose her and that he will never forgive Rosalie for it."

It was surprising to hear him mention her name when I had been thinking it only seconds ago.

"We must not dwell on negative thoughts like that, my darling," I said, placing my hands over his. "Bella had held out this long and should anything start to go wrong, Rosalie has already promised to turn her or allow someone else to do so."

"If she dies while that creature is inside of her, we cannot administer the venom. It will be trapped inside of her," he sighed. "The timing must be precise and yet I am at a loss to even predict the day her waters will break."

"If anyone can do it, it is you," I told him and I felt him smile. "And Edward would forgive Rosalie, in time."

"You believe so? I cannot pretend to have the faith in him that you do."

"You have little faith in Rosalie, either," I pointed out gently. "She is doing what she believes to be best."

"How can you think that?" he asked, not unkindly. "Honestly, how can that be?"

"She is giving Edward what he would never have the courage to ask for. Perhaps she knows him even a little better than you, Carlisle. Think of how happy this will make him; both he and Bella. Rosalie is doing what Edward would want to do, but could never in good conscience actually do."

"It could be seen like that," he admitted softly. "I confess I never thought of it like that. But still, there will never be any way of explaining that to Edward."

I couldn't think of anything to reply, so I turned and smiled. "Let's go see who needs some therapy, huh?"

He laughed. It was wonderful to hear him laugh again, and we went to find our wayward children.

* * *

**-Rosalie-**

The next few days were without a doubt the most stressful, strangest days of my entire life. Edward had hardly spoken to me since our encounter and was being careful not to make eye contact with me. He had returned to his cold, loathing exterior and I was still receiving the full blast of it; only he was speaking in strangled, dead tones now instead of screaming. To add insult to injury, Jacob Black was apparently becoming part of the furniture. After some pathetic attempted coup from the mastermind of his 'Pack' had gone awry due to his interference, everyone was grateful to him and seemed perfectly content to have him around. It made my stomach roll and my skin twitch just to hear his cocky voice. To be stuck with an insolent, audacious child at a such a time was too much to be borne and yet I struggled to do so.

Bella's health was worsening; it was clear to see and yet I clung onto the belief that what I was doing would ultimately yield something good. Black became a fixture in my home and threw my dirty looks and blonde jokes at every opportunity he got. His hatred for me was easily traceable. I was allowing Bella to give birth to the child of the man he despised, of a species he despised, when he wanted her for himself. It was all so babyish but I couldn't find the energy to laugh. Emmett was none too pleased about his attitude to me and Jasper was the same, but his presence made Bella happy or at least it seemed to so no one decapitated him.

Edward, however, did not seem as opposed to his presence as I had originally suspected. If anything, he seemed to be getting friendlier with Black with each passing day. Carlisle unintentionally rubbed salt in the wound by going so far as to offer that _dog_ a bed to sleep in. Aside from Edward's room, mine and Emmett's was the only one with a bed. It was all I could do not to gut him from bow to stern.

To be honest, I felt my sanity hanging on by a thread. Some magnificent auto pilot had taken over the daily activities with such flourish that I wanted to leave her to it and fade into peaceful oblivion. But I knew on some disconnected level that while she was flawlessly covering for me, she was also bastardising me completely. Everyone must have thought I was a complete psycho; rushing around happily pouring mugs of blood while prattling away about cravings and such. Sometimes I took over and did things differently, but no-one really paid attention except to think badly of me.

During this time, I felt less human than I had ever done before. Perhaps it was the separation of myself; the split in personality, so precise and neat that it had taken all that was optimistic and enthused away from me completely. I felt the encroaching dark; I was about to free fall into some terrible precipice and no-one would bother to rescue me because...well, why would they?

I tortured myself over and over again with memories. Endless replays of times when I had so many chances to leave with Edward, to go with him and never look back. There, in hindsight, far too many chances for the entire process to be anything other than severely depressing. From almost the very first instance of our acquaintance, we had had nothing but opportunities to be together. And yet I had missed them all and when I had not missed them I had destroyed them. They played on a loop, louder each and every time until I felt like they were screaming at me.

And yet I was stroking Bella's forehead at the time. Edward was beside me and then suddenly, Emmett had launched himself into the middle of things and held his hand up at Edward warningly.

I looked up, caught off guard. What had happened?

The _look_ in Edward's eyes. He was furious and not, I suspected, because I had been stroking Bella's forehead. He had probably been unwilling witness to my increasing insanity and was planning to smack me around the face to snap me out of it.

The surprise of that wore off quickly and I submerged once more, content to allow the shiny Stepford Rosalie her turn to do whatever was necessary to get this done.

Of all the things I had endured in my life, this was the worst. It seemed like some badly written novel found in the bargain bin of a second hand book store. What was becoming of my life and how much of it was genuinely ruined now?

And for _what_?

I sank as far back as I could until I could no longer hear the awful chiming of my own voice.

* * *

On Sunday the 10th of September 2006, Renesmee Cullen was born and Bella Swan became a vampire; one of us for all time.

There was very suddenly nowhere to retreat to. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide and nothing to do but be completely contained in the new world I found myself in. Bella, who had once been an annoying, weakling human was now the immortal mother of Edward's child; or at least she would be once the process was finished.

While Bella was writhing and transforming, I held the new born baby in my arms and everything bad, everything horrific simply melted away. Replaced by the beautiful feeling that I had had some hand in bringing that tiny baby into being, if only by protecting her from her father.

Edward hadn't spoken in a while. There had been a strange moment when Jacob had run outside, without saying a word. I barely noticed, let alone cared, except that he slammed the door hard enough to make the baby stir. Edward was just staring at her; staring as if his eyes couldn't quite catch all of her. It was incredible; I was holding his baby.

The bitterness was unstoppable. No amount of freshly applied goodness could smother it down. I was bitter, jealous and so incredibly sad that it took my breath away but somehow, the fact that this was Edward's baby...it felt just the tiniest bit like it was my baby too.

Stupid. Stupid thought. How could I be thinking something like that? I was delusional. This child was nothing to do with me. She was Bella's and Edward's baby, not mine. Never mine.

Then he looked up at me, eyes so completely open and un-shuttered and I heard his voice inside my mind; pure and strong.

_'No,'_ he told me. _'You did this, Rosalie. You have given me this. I know you will never forgive me, but please know that my baby owes you her life. And I owe you everything. I will always owe you everything.'_

He came to me and held out his arms. I moved to give him the baby, but before I could do so he wrapped those arms around me, careful not to crush the baby, who made small gurgling noises in between us both. In an alternate universe perhaps, this was how we might have been. The two of us, huddled around our newborn. I heard the other approaching and knew we had only seconds left, but I savoured them fiercely anyway.

His cheek against mine, he very softly breath five words.

And I'm sure at this point, I don't need to tell you what they were.

* * *

_A/N – Dearest, loveliest readers and reviewers, thanks so much once again for all your patience and kindness. I can't believe that after this, there is only one more post of Breaking Points to post and then that's it. I really am quite sad, but ultimately proud. It feels like a child, growing up and heading off to Uni. I'm proud, but tearful. _

_Ah well. Hopefully this will be a good enough Christmas Present for all the crap I've put everyone through, waiting for updates. There's only one more to go, darlings and then you're all free! What will I do without you all? _

_Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this. It was admittedly very difficult to write as I am certainly not the biggest fan of Breaking Dawn and some of it may seem a little OOC, but hopefully it rings true enough. For all the lovely people who asked, I am doing fantastic; very happy and looking forward to Christmas. I sincerely wish every single one of you a very Merry Christmas and a fantastic new year. _

_X x x _

_Bex_

_x x x _


	43. Chapter 41: Epilogue

**-Chapter Forty One Part III-**

**-Epilogue-**

_'Ramona, come closer,  
Shut softly your watery eyes.  
The pangs of your sadness,  
Will pass as your senses will rise.  
The flowers of the city,  
Though breath-like, get deathlike at times.  
And there's no use in trying  
To deal with the dying  
Though I cannot explain that in lines...'_

**-Jasper-**

The ending of a thing is impossible to design, truly it is. In any instance, searching for a way to end anything properly and with justice is complicated and often futile. There is never really a good way to end a relationship, for example. No matter the kindness that may be involved, there will always be things left unsaid, issues left unresolved. As I struggled with the dilemma before me, I was filled with the strange desire to leave it unfinished; perhaps to return to it whenever I wanted, like a lover one could not quite let go of. Like a friend we know we should cease to associate with, but the comfort borne of familiarity is powerful enough that we stay anyway. This book had become more to me than extravagant diary entries; more than exaggerated (and sometimes under-exaggerated) events and occurrences in the lives of people I knew and loved. It had become something entirely it's own, much like those I had struggled to depict. Much like the story I hoped I had told faithfully.

Ending it now, after so long a time writing it in secret, felt like saying goodbye to a friend; leaving behind a tempestuous lover. I had little idea of exactly how to end it and trying to sum everything in a manner of significance and symmetry seemed more daunting now than it had when I had initially struggled with the idea of writing down that which existed between Rosalie Hale and Edward Cullen.

Should it, for example, have ended with their resolve to never again fall prey to the connection between them? The private agreement between them that now, with the birth of Edward's child, the madness had to come to an end? I seemed to be torn between my desire to write a happy ending, one that involved Edward and Rosalie conquering the demons of their passion, but unfortunately, I could not shake the idea that a more truthful and realistic ending had to be considered.

With annoyance, I threw the pen aside where it impacted disappointingly on the floor, glaring up at me with satisfaction. I glared back and wondered, for the thousandth time, why on earth I was doing this? Why I was bothering to write this stupid book that nobody was ever going to buy in a million years, let alone publish simply due to the fact that it was yet another torrid vampire love story.

And yet, I knew I would carry on. I had endured this frustration and such doubting questions many times over the last few years and I would finish that God-damned book if it killed me, whether only one person in the world bought it; it would be worth it. What else could I do with one of the greatest stories I had ever encountered in my life? I could not bear witness to so much and not share it with anyone, I simply could not.

No, I had spent too much time with it now. It was almost finished. It _had_ to be finished, or else I would go on writing it forever. This was my problem. How was I supposed to finish a story that, well...wasn't finished?

I supposed inspiration would come to me at some point, it usually did. There was just too much all around me to ignore, too much happening, too much going on between the lines. Even then, as my family celebrated the albeit rather anti-climatic victory over the Volturi and their meddling devices, there were scenes unfolding unseen by many, but more apparent to those who knew where to look for absent spaces and missing bodies.

Music blared, cheers, laughter and animated chatter filled the beautiful room. So many of our kind all together, dancing and hugging and smiling brightly. So much fuss being made over the undeniably adorable, yet questionably named, Nessie. She giggled and smiled while her mother held her tight and refused to let go of her hand, even once. She had woken a while ago, most likely due to sheer volume of sound. Originally, everyone had begun to drift away back to their lives after a few bracing back slaps and congratulatory smiles. Now that the battle, if it could be called that, was done, no one really knew what to do. It was Esme who had put her foot down and insisted that everyone stay and that we throw a party. Even I had marvelled at the speed with which she created the impressive celebrations. Alice, of course, had been desperate to help. It was wonderful to be back after so long away, searching endlessly all the while trying to work through our own issues. It had been a difficult journey to say the least, but we had accomplished it together and that, in itself, was worth celebrating.

My eyes found her without even trying and I saw she was dancing with Charlie who looked awkward and gruff. I smiled and shook my head; an odd sight indeed. Our simple house, where so much had transpired, was transformed into what easily could have been the celebration of the decade. Everyone was there, all except two people. It always amazed me how no-one but myself ever noticed things like this. Maybe they were blessed by some pitying deity who lent them cover of darkness to slink away, even in the midst of such a family orientated celebration. But then I supposed, they _were_ family. They were everything. Who better to celebrate with?

And it was then, pondering the difficulties of endings that I saw my Alice, chiming her crystal bell laugh across the room, her eyes sparkling as I had not seen them in so long. I decided there and then that as soon as this party was over, I would take her into the yard, get down on one knee and ask her to marry me for the very first time.

* * *

_'...Your cracked country lips  
I still wish to kiss  
As to be by the strength of you skin.  
Your magnetic movements  
Still capture the minutes I'm in.  
But it grieves my heart, love,  
To see you trying to be a part of  
A world that just don't exist._

_It's all just a dream, babe,  
A vacuum, a scheme, babe,  
That sucks you into feeling like this...'_

**-Emmett-**

It had taken me seventy one years to take a two day drive and stand, hand in hand with my wife, in a place I could never bear to visit before then. Until then, I hadn't laid eyes on the brightly lit alleyway in Andrews Street, Rochester. I stared at what was newly laid cement, wondering how long ago it had been relaid and if the people who did so knew the significance of that area, of that place on the ground. Of what had been lost that night before I even knew my soul mate, my wife. I felt cold, but Rosalie's hand was warm in mine and not gripping tightly enough that I felt I had to worry about her so much. This journey was more for my benefit than anything else. An attempt for her to share with me something she previously could not. _Bridging gaps_, she had called it when she suggested it the morning after the celebration. Now here we were, standing at the very place, she had informed me, where it had happened. Where her life had taken a swift and unexpected turn for the worst, towards death and ruin.

I could never have gone there before, I knew that much. It was taking a lot to hold me together as it was, just to see even the town where this had occurred. To know that she lived near there, to know that she had once been alive and warm and fragile until that...that _man_ had destroyed her. This was why Edward had used to take her in lieu of myself. Something about that fact was niggling away in the back of my mind, with an after taste of deja vu. I shook it away.

It was important that I had finally made the trip, because that would always be a part of Rosalie. Always be a small, healed but badly scarred part of who she was. Alice would have forgotten it and focused on the future. Esme would have gathered those she loved around her to distract her from it. But Rosalie wasn't like that. Every bad thing that happened to her, she kept with her. Kept it inside her forever; maybe as a kind of trophy to prove she had survived it, maybe to prevent it from ever happening again.

It was raining heavily even as we stood there, hand in hand together staring blindly at the spot, while people moved around us swiftly trying to avoid the downpour. Some threw us confused looks. Neither of us held so much as an umbrella or even a warm jacket but I barely felt the drops as they hit. I glanced over at Rosalie, almost nervously, but she was staring calmly at the same space of ground as I was. There was no real conflict in her eyes, nothing in her countenance that suggested she was about to break down. She seemed a little sad perhaps, but otherwise at peace. Rosalie had accepted many years ago what had taken place before us. This was for me to partake of one of her many shadowy secrets, locked away for decades.

We stood there a while, until something that had been in the back of my throat since I'd first laid eyes on this place, finally came bubbling past my wet lips.

"You loved him didn't you?" I asked quietly.

She tiler her head quizzically. "You mean King?"

"Of course not," I said and looked at her, drenched and stunning as always; perfect even when ruined. "Edward. You loved him didn't you?"

There were no shutters crashing down in her eyes, no shields flying up to the rescue; only that same sadness and acceptance that shook me deeper than any argument or explosive confrontation could have. "I love you, Emmett. More than anything in the entire world."

"But you loved him, didn't you?" I asked with a sad little smile of my own. There was no anger, no jealousy which was shocking. I felt only a belated understanding of something that would have been ridiculously obvious had I taken the trouble to make this trip even once before. "You and Edward were in love."

The rain crashed around us as she moved closer and stared evenly up at me. I held my breath without even knowing.

"I loved him. I did. But I didn't know how to love, I didn't know what to do with it. I made it into something bad and dark so I could understand it and destroy it."

"And...did that work? Did you destroy it?" I asked, hating how young I sounded. I was strong man, afraid of nothing corporeal and yet she could reduce me to a child, frightened and lost.

"I destroyed us both for a while," she said, stroking my cheek gently, maintaining eye contact steadily. "I destroyed a lot until I found you. You rebuilt me and I'll always be yours for that."

I looked away for a moment to the very place that Rosalie had been broken and I wished I had come before that day so I could have understood better. I could not have explained what it was that gave me this sudden understanding, but it was very much real. Something about simply _being there_ made the elements of what had been a murky relationship between siblings suddenly crystal clear.

"Always?" I asked, moving my gaze back to her. "I've never loved anything like I love you. I could never love anything else, Rose. Never. I'll take you any way I can get you. Broken, bitchy and bossy. I'll do anything to keep you, baby you know that."

Maybe they were tears in her eyes or maybe they were raindrops; it was hard to tell.

"I'm yours, baby," she promised with a fervency bordering on prayer. "I could never not be yours."

It felt as though the years of growing distance between us melted away, washed into oblivion by the rain and by our presence in that place. I could see as plain as day now what had been feeding the tension and the silence that had recently infected our marriage. Now that it was out in the open, I couldn't help but feel cleansed with relief. I couldn't bring myself to hate or to blame Edward or Rosalie. I had not existed to them at the time and knowing them both as well as I did, I could only imagine how painful any relationship between them must have been. They were too alike for anything to ever be permanent and if it would have been, it would have destroyed them both. Like chemical elements that should never be combined.

Between the rain and the truth and the place of origin for Rosalie's dark past, I felt as though we were on the verge of something wonderful. We had reached our breaking point and had survived it, had moved on with acceptance. It could have been terrible. We could have let it tear apart the foundations of our marriage and our bond. But forever was a long time to bear a grudge and to keep such heavy secrets.

No, this felt good. Different.

Something a little bit like a fresh start.

* * *

_'...I can see that your head  
Has been twisted and fed,  
With worthless foam from the mouth.  
I can tell you are torn  
Between staying and returning  
Back to the South.  
You've been fooled into thinking  
That the finishing end is at hand.  
Yet there's no one to beat you,  
No one to defeat you,  
Except the thoughts of yourself feeling bad...'_

**-Carlisle-**

When I had been younger, a mere human child, I had found faith easily in all things. I was a naturally faithful and religious child, pleased to abide by the laws of God and the rules of the bible. It satisfied me to have a set of guidelines and often I would feel a tinge of smug superiority any time my father and I would walk through town and see those women of sin offering their vices for coin and the men who shiftily eyed them up. I felt myself to be above the rest of our townspeople because I was a good person; I was a person of religion and one who followed the bible to the letter. Best of all was the knowledge that I had faith in all things. I hadn't feared death because my faith was that strong that I knew I would be bound for the light and the sky upon which sat a God I had been dutiful and loyal to in all things. I slept soundly through those nights, so long ago.

Then my father had begun ranting. He had seen and heard things in the course of three months that had turned him from a respectable man of the church into someone that the people on the streets sniggered and laughed at when he had gone far away enough that he might not hear them. The whores giggled and the thieves and fiends openly laughed and called him a loony. My faith was shaken then. My father, who in all things I trusted and turned to, was a laughing stock and he didn't seem to care. He spoke openly to anyone who would listen about how he had seen human like monsters rip apart a young girl right in front of his eyes and drink her blood like it was wine. But a lack of understanding from anyone about this drove him into a fierce state of paranoia. He became consumed with the idea that those people on the streets we had once pitied, were now the agents of Satan. The whores were witches and succubi. The thieves were demons and werewolves, sent to steal souls and feast upon the hollow remains. Shadowy characters, men who kept to the dark of night were vampires. He was filled with a dangerous certainty and although he became a joke to most in our community, even alienating his own brother and sister, he had fellow pastors who believed him wholly. They were easily whipped up into a similar frenzy of conviction and it took little to persuade them to join him in his forays into the night in search of such beasts.

I followed him, unable to break my faith in them man who had never steered me wrong. I trained with the other pastors, learning what might stop a werewolf or a vampire and how not to be swayed by the lull of a witch. All of which was hypothetical, really. I did not see anything to make me truly believe my father for a long time but I was happy to remain loyal to him without evidence; the feeling of satisfaction was strong after all.

He killed many, that was certain. Women, mostly. They never screamed magical curses that turned any of us into toads, never vanished into thin air or rode away to safety upon their brooms. They simply cried and begged like young women and died in a mess of what seemed to be very human blood. My faith trembled and frayed but it held fast. I convinced myself that these were tricks to protect their sisters from exposure. Loyalty amongst thieves, as it were. The men were harder to explain away. No sharp fangs, no wolf ears or paws. No extraordinary strength or abhorrence to garlic and crosses. They died in confusion, offering money in place of their gruesome execution and I clung to my faith hard like I would fall into hell if I loosened my grip even slightly.

Up until my father grew ill, I had been only a witness to these forays. Lookout, at best. I had crafted weapons and helped the others but I had never killed a being, supernatural or otherwise. That all changed, though, when he became too frail and ill to lead us. The pastors turned to me, expecting me to head the raids my father had trail blazed.

And I still had my faith, so I agreed, but I decided to do things a little differently. There had been one very rare occasion when my father had killed something that could have actually been a vampire. Certainly, it showed no fear of the garlic cloves my father had thrown at it nor of the crosses the pastors thrust at it's face but the being was uncommonly pale and had eyes as red as rubies. Only when we set it upon fire, quite by accident, did the being die. I felt that if we had not made that mistake of dropping the oil lamp at it's feet, the creature would have murdered us without breaking a sweat.

So I decided that I would not focus on witches or werewolves primarily. I would seek out vampires. I told the pastors what to focus on specifically, instead of attacking anyone who looked remotely suspicious in a dark alleyway. But they were set in my father's ways and my suggestions were set aside. My father was stern and wouldn't listen to a word I had to say.

I killed many people. Not as many as my father, but still a considerable amount. I knew deep down that thus far, I had not rid the world of a single evil creature but I continued to hunt each and every night. Sometimes, I knew it was a human and even as they other pastors looked to me for guidance, I allowed them to kill the human because it was a person I didn't approve of. A dirty beggar, a renowned thief. My hands were covered in human blood and every night the pastors would celebrate with my ageing father and hold their convictions high; I celebrated with them and slept soundly at night.

But I became ferociously determined to find an actual vampire. I knew that if I could find just one, it would remove that nagging feeling of wrongdoing and wholly restore my faith. I scrutinised each hint of a trail, each whisper of a shadow.

Then one night there was a sewer raid and I knew I had found what I had been furiously searching for. My faith was not restored, it was broken. How could God allow creatures such as these to stalk the earth? They were crouched over two dead bodies, so covered in their own blood that I could barely tell if they were male or female.

After ripping most of the pastors limb from limb and laughing about it, I was certain I was about to die but one of them lifted me up by the scruff of the neck and examined me closely. I was trembling the entire time.

"_This one," the vampire said to his coven. "This is the leader now, the old pastor is too weak to seek us out so he leads these fools against us. I have seen you strutting around town, boy. I know your kind. I have tasted your kind. All that righteousness really adds something to the blood."_

_The others gathered around us now, their fiery red eyes fixed upon me. There was a tangible sense of excitement all around in the rotten, bloody air. The vampire who held me up smiled, revealing his sharp, long teeth and I couldn't look away. _

"_You do believe you are better than us, don't you?" I tired to shake my head, but his grip was iron around my neck. "You think that because you have God and belief and faith that you have the right to seek us out and destroy us?"_

_The others hissed and snarled, moving closer in anticipation. _

"_Humans," the vampire sneered. "So arrogant and yet so stupid. This must be the first time you have actually succeeded in finding a single supernatural being. It frustrates you, boy, to sense that we are all around, but you have not found us until now. Indeed, your father only caught a glimpse of me once. He happened upon me feeding from a girl and it drove him mad enough to send him upon a crusade of murder that will ensure him a place in the lowest levels of hell."_

_I was faint from lack of breath, my vision spinning. _

"_I led you here, boy," he told me. "I set the trail and we waited here for you. Have you ever heard the old adage, 'Pride goeth before a fall'? It seems rather fitting for this occasion."_

_Then he leaned in close enough that I could smell the blood on his breath. "I should kill you, boy," he whispered to me. "I should rend you apart but I won't. No. I shall give you something else instead. Let us call it...perspective." _

I had never told anyone exactly how it was I became a vampire. The story was in essence true, but I altered the perspective, as such. Attached shame and hesitance to my actions when in reality, there had been none. I had been an arrogant, prideful boy who had forced himself to ignore the horror of my actions. I had killed so many people and not lost a wink of sleep over it. It was my deep dark secret, I supposed.

We all had secrets. No-one could live as long as we did and not harbour secrets. Esme had her share of things she would never tell me and I was able to accept that because I had held things close to my chest and did not share them. It was this fact that made me respect our children's need for privacy and secrecy too. Perhaps if I had no secrets of my own, I would have been more prying, more judgemental, like the boy I once was. But I did have secrets and shameful things hidden away in my past so I let them alone and strove to keep my mind wide open.

But sometimes that was a little difficult when one lived with a telepath.

It took work to conceal things from Edward and for all I knew, my efforts might have been wasted, but I felt deep down that they were not. I tried my best for many years to keep little things hidden from him. Partly for my own selfish reasons. Edward had been my brother for a time in the beginning and I loved him a great deal too much to have his glorified opinion of me besmirched by the truth of past deeds. Besides, he had secrets of his own to preciously guard.

It made me sad sometimes, to see him so locked away inside himself and the secrets he was forced to keep. Omniscience must have been a burden, especially to Edward who was so deeply private at times that he had admitted he felt tainted by the secrets of others even. The gifts of immortality more often than not held an unpleasant underline of irony. Rosalie's beauty, Edward's telepathy, Alice's foresight, Jasper's sensitivity. There was a cruel and bitter sense of humour involved somewhere, I was certain of it.

He sat before me, struggling to find the words he wished for and I waited patiently, allowing my own mind to wander a little while he was so distracted. If he knew what I had been thinking, he said nothing of it. Finally, he looked up at me from where he sat at the kitchen counter while I leaned back casually, arms crossed and exuding patience. He had come to see me three minutes ago and had not yet spoken. I was still cleaning up from the party, even though it had been two days. I was still finding streamers and balloon skins in various places. Who had even thought to bring streamers to what was supposed to be a massacre style face off with the leaders of our species? Tanya, perhaps.

"So," he said quietly and I looked up, ready and waiting to be as supportive as was physically possible. He had been through so much lately, we all had, but he seemed to have borne the brunt of it. "Everything is...OK?"

I was not expecting that, to say the least. His current state of nervousness was enough to have me sufficiently worried.

"At present time, everything would indeed seem to be all right," I told him evenly. He wrung his hands together, an odd little gesture he seemed to have inherited from Rosalie perhaps. She never could control her hands when she was nervous. "But then," I added smiling. "One never does know when Van Helsing might suddenly pop out of a nearby shrub."

He didn't return my smile, nor did he seem to have heard what I had said. He seemed focused on spot to my left where his eyes were sharply focused on what seemed to be nothing.

"Edward?" I asked quietly. "What is it?"

He sighed and looked away from his important nothingness. "I don't know. I feel like...I was prepared to...it seems too easy, you know? We get to have all this. I get to have all this and I don't deserve any of it, I really don't. I was prepared to die, Carlisle and I didn't."

"You are...disappointed?"

He shrugged elegantly. "No, of course not but still you cannot deny that for us, nothing ever comes this easily. It seems wrong somehow. Too easy. Too...perfect."

"That makes you nervous?"

"It doesn't make _you_ nervous?" he asked, finally meeting my eyes and I could see then how something was eating away at him and it made me even sadder to think that it might actually be happiness and how unprepared for it he really was. He and Rosalie had more in common than they would ever know.

"It is completely understandable to feel like this," I said. "We were expecting a big fight, maybe even preparing for loss and then nothing really happened. The best outcome possible became reality. As close to happy ever after as we've come for a long time and as I said, I can see why it would make you uncomfortable." I paused and leaned in a little closer to gain his full attention. "But there is nothing to worry about. Edward, everything is alright."

"Yes, I know," he said nodding in agreement but it rang false and I felt helpless to ease his sadness. Where was Bella when you needed her? Seeing to Nessie no doubt in the cottage, but still it felt suddenly strange to even see Edward without Bella. "I know I'm just being stupid, y'know?"

I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "It's been a hard few years, son. Troubles will come and go, they always do and this is one of the few times when we can breathe. Don't waste it."

I watched him leave and couldn't help but think the same thought as before; that the cause of the weight upon his strange, old shoulders might actually be _happiness_.

* * *

_'...I've heard you say many times  
That you're better than no one  
And no one is better than you.  
If you really believe that,  
You know you have  
Nothing to win and nothing to lose.  
From fixtures and forces and friends  
Your sorrow does stem.  
That hype you and type you,  
Making you feel  
That you gotta be just like them...'_

**-Alice-**

The last time I had ever woken up, it had been in the grip of fear. I had gone from being a mortal, to an immortal and the space in between was lost to me forever. The time before it was blurred and indistinct but everything after I could still recall with crisp perfection. Those moments that I rose from darkness to light, unconsciousness to a state of full wakefulness that would never depart, were what I marked to be beginning of my life. And as such, I awoke in fear. It seemed a bad start, but I could not have chosen a different one.

After that, I began to miss the sensation of waking. It was unendingly strange to never sleep and even after decades of sameness, I still occasionally yearned for the bliss of those few ignorant moments after waking. Being in a full state of consciousness all the time was tiring, especially for me what with my mind working a million miles a minute. I often sought out the serenity that chaos could offer one such a myself. The delight of unpredictability became something I felt myself leaning towards and as a result, I knew people thought me a little strange. I didn't care though, because there was one person who didn't think I was strange or weird. My Jasper. My best friend, lover and partner in all things.

My fiancé.

I had my eyes closed on the floor where we lay, wrapped up in one another. It had been a long time since we had been intimate and it felt ridiculously wonderful to be so reconnected. I couldn't get enough of his arms around me, of his scent which my primitive brain thought of as 'home'.

Last night he had proposed to me; he had actually got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. No strange gesture to impress me, no big speech. Just a simple question and so much love in his eyes. Now we were engaged for the first time. It felt so special, even though I knew we would probably do this a hundred times more in the future. Already my mind was whirring with images of dresses and flowers, but I tried to shut it off because that wasn't what I cared about, not really.

It felt like a fresh start for us. That was what was important. We had been through an undoubtedly rough patch recently and this felt like both of us admitting to past mistakes and agreeing to start anew. It was the most wonderful feeling I had felt in a long time and I desperately wished I could have spelt a little through the night just so I could wake up and feel the fresh bubbling excitement and joy at remembering what had happened.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked me, stroking me hair slowly. His voice was a soft, warm baritone and it sent shivers down my spine, as if I hadn't heard it in so long.

"New things," I told him. "New places, new feelings."

He pressed his warm lips to my nose. "Sounds good," he murmured.

I opened my eyes. It was the closest thing I would ever get to waking up, but I decided it was more than good enough to open my eyes and see his face.

"It will be," I promised him.

* * *

_'...I'd forever talk to you,  
But soon my words  
They would turn into a meaningless ring.  
For deep in my heart  
I know there is no help I can bring.  
Everything passes,  
Everything changes,  
Just do what you think you should do.  
And someday, maybe,  
Who knows, baby,  
I'll come and be cryin' to you.'_

_**-April 12th 1973-**_

_-Rosalie-_

_It was hard to believe, looking down at my wedding finger, that it had been two whole years since Emmett had given me that ring. It had not come off for even a moment since then and I planned for it never to. It glistened subtly on my finger as I stared at it fiercely, hoping everything else would simply fade away if I stared hard enough. I counted the glistening edges, memorised the shade of light if reflected. Anything so I didn't have to look in the mirror. _

_It was my wedding day. The day I was going to marry Emmett. It was almost a year and a half in the planning and now it was there, staring me in the face. Emmett was downstairs with the men; Carlisle, Jasper and Edward I supposed while I was upstairs, readying myself. My hair had been fixed perfectly, my make-up, my clothes...all expertly and lovingly applied by Alice, who had spent the last year in a state of planning ecstasy. I had let her do pretty much whatever she wanted and that was why two thirds of the small town we currently resided in had been invited. I would have preferred something small and intimate, just family really. But it was easier in the long run to give her what she wanted. To give everyone what they wanted, what they expected of me. A large, over the top wedding the for the over the top bride. Whatever was easiest for them to believe. _

_Everything was ready, there could be no more delays. I was sitting in front of a large mirror in my room, wearing my wedding dress and I couldn't force myself to look up. I was terrified. Terrified of seeing myself in that white dress, knowing what I had done the last time I wore such a garment. _

_But worse still, I was consumed with the terror of looking myself in the eye. Petrified of realising how much this felt _wrong_ on every level, especially at the thought of Edward downstairs chatting politely, in formal wear. Edward who would watch me marry another man, his brother. Edward who would smile and congratulate me and I would feel his pain, despite not having Jasper's talents. Edward who I loved too much to even allow myself to think of him fully. Edward. _

_I wasn't going to be able to do this, I just wasn't. My composure wouldn't hold, I was going to shatter apart with wrongness and never in my life had I wanted to run away more. The air felt like a living thing it was so hot all of a sudden, it was choking me, strangling me to death and the desire to flee was overwhelming. _

_The door opened slightly and I opened my mouth, ready to ask Alice to give me a few more minutes, but it wasn't Alice. Of course it wasn't Alice. _

"_Hey," he said softly, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Just his presence filled me something almost like raw electricity, but it was too potent. Too much for my immortal, unyielding body. It always was. He didn't ask how I was feeling. He probably knew. _

"_I'll be down in a minute," I said, trying to sound calm but it didn't come out calm at all. It was a strangled, choked sound like that of a panicked animal. "Finishing touches."_

_He said nothing, just moved to stand beside him. After a moment, I felt his hand reach down to grasp mine. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the instant flood of _desire, want, need, adore, run, run, run with me._ It was my wedding day and I couldn't face eternity if I had betrayed my husband to be on that day of all days. _

"_It's going to be OK," he told me quietly. No words of how beautiful I looked, he knew I wouldn't want to hear that. If he heard my ridiculous thoughts of running, he said nothing of it. "It's all going to be OK."_

"_When?" I whispered and the knife in my heart twisted agonisingly for allowing myself to think of such things. "Tell me when."_

"_Soon," he promised me faithfully and it was somehow a relief to hear his voice crack a little. "You'll see."_

_I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up so fast I almost fell in that stupid dress, but he caught me and stared eagerly into my eyes, waiting to see what I needed from him, what would give me strength that day. I gripped his hand tightly in mine and stared at him, painfully restraining myself from doing all the things I longed to, that I needed to. _

"_How can you stand this?" I whispered, so close to him...far too close. "How can you let this happen?"_

_He turned his face away a little, but I saw the pain. "What would you have me do, love? Whisk you away, elope with you and never look back?"_

_It sounded like a genuine question, but it was rhetorical. Of course it was. It had to be. _

"_We can't, we promised..."  
_

"_I _know_!" he only just stopped himself from yelling. "I know, Rosalie. We made promises and I will help you keep them. Do you think it's easy to witness you _marry _ another man? Do you not think I would sell my soul a thousand times over to be in Emmett's shoes? How I torture myself over and over that I didn't just get on my hands and knees and beg_ _you to marry me before and let your emotional issues be damned!" His voice broke and he seemed to be trying to pull himself together. His hand was gripping mine like he intended to fuse them together; handcuffs born of immortal flesh and determination. _

_I was moments away from crying and I knew I had to stop it. He knew it too, so he took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. _

"_I will always be here, Rosalie," he whispered. "Always. Nothing will alter that."_

"_Not time, or love or obligation," I choked out, quietly enough that no-one but those present could have detected it. _

_He smiled, heartbreakingly sad and repeated the words back. Our own little vow for the day that should have been his. The pain was inconceivable; it was like a pair of hands around my neck, inside my chest, tightening every moment that passed. I felt like I might pass out from lack of highly unnecessary oxygen; it was irrational, I knew but it felt so real. He held me up, perhaps knowing I might fall without him there to prevent it. _

"_We have to go," he told me in a steady voice that I knew was forced. _

_There was no time for anything else, there never was. His words in my mind, I went and married the man I loved, leaving the man I was the other half of, watching from a distance._

* * *

_'Listen as the wind blows,  
From across the great divide.  
Voices trapped in yearning,  
Memories trapped in time.  
The night is my companion,  
And solitude my guide.  
Would I spend forever here,  
And not be satisfied...'_

**-Jasper-**

"So," I asked my agent over the phone. "What did you think?"

There was a long and rather pregnant pause before he replied, "Well."

"Well what?" I demanded as politely as possible. It had been a week now since I'd sent him the first three chapters and a basic outline of the story I had been writing for the past eleven years and my patience was wearing thin. "Tell me what you thought of it, editing aside?"

"I'm...not...sure," he said, disjointedly, as though it was causing him immense pain to even answer me. "I mean, it was really well written like your other work, of course."

"Yes, but what did you think of the story?" I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. Usually my agent was a great guy, genuinely good at his job of selling my little pieces of work under a carefully constructed pen name. He never took this long to contact me before and it was making me jittery.

"It seems to be a bit, uh...a bit...flowery?" he burst out after apparently holding his breath. "And these characters, Jasper. I mean...who will...uh...take them seriously? So much angst in the first chapter alone! No-one will be able to handle it. I don't...think."

"How is any of this different from my other work? From the poems?"

He sighed, sounding defeated. "The difference, my annoying friend, is that...it's really good."

I blinked, unsure of how to take that. "Excuse me?"

"Oh I didn't mean to say your other work wasn't good! No, it was brilliant, of course it was otherwise it wouldn't have sold, would it? No I mean...what I'm trying to say is that this is just..._different_."

"Fred," I ground out. "Will you please just give it to me straight? What did you think of it?"

"I loved it, OK?" he snapped so suddenly that I jumped. "I loved it! Is that what you wanted to hear? You wrote a dark, tragic love story and I should hate it but I love it! Are you happy now? I'm fifty three years old and you've got me hooked on some stupid vampire love story. I _hope_ you're happy. Well, of course you are. It's gonna sell like hotcakes and you're gonna be disgustingly rich." After a highly disgruntled pause, he said, "I can't believe you only sent me three chapters, bastard. Send me the rest already will you? I've read what you sent five times."

My mind seemed to have gotten lost somewhere in that tirade and I felt more than a little confused. "So...you liked it?"

"Of course I liked it, haven't you been listening?" he yelled. "That's the whole problem! You've made me like a story that will be in the hands of every literate teenage girl in the universe within a month of it being published!"

"Teenage girls?"

"Of course!" he replied, sounding a little less annoyed now. "Like I said, it's gonna sell like crazy."

"But why would you aim it at teenagers?" I asked, so confused. "Did you _read _it, Fred? The woman in it is raped to death."

"Who doesn't like a little sprinkling of angst on their immortal love story sundae?" he quipped back. "Trust me, pal, it's gonna sell. _Big time_."

I felt a nasty twisting sensation in my gut.

"Why do you think it will sell big?" I asked carefully, trying to calm the growing sense of unease.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is it that's different from my other stuff?"

"I can't really say with so little material," he said sounding genuinely put out now. "But my instincts tell me it's them. The characters. I mean, this story has been done a few times already. The whole vampire love thing is already out there, for sure but these characters, Lillian and Anthony, they're different. They're the reason it will sell. I can see it now. They'll call it _Lanthony_."

I felt something rise up in my throat. "Excuse me?"

"Y'know. Their names. It's what all the kids do now. They mash up the names to make one name, as if they're one person. Cute, huh?"

Cute?

So many years of writing the same story, stopping only to write a little something else on the side and now here was my agent telling me that it was going to be huge, a great success and I felt, for the very first time, that what I had accomplished was closer to a violation than a narrative. I tried to imagine everyone knowing of this story, people talking openly about it and even maybe writing...what was it called, fanfiction about it?

Urgh.

I realised I hadn't thought this through at all. Even down to something as simple as the working title names I chose for the characters was terrible. How could I have done this to them? Threatened to reveal so much of their life together, their connection? Their unending indiscretions?

"Actually, Fred," I said. "I've changed my mind."

"What? You won't send me the next chapters? You bastard! I'll pay you!"

"No, you idiot. I'm not publishing it."

Another large silence. "Jasper," he said like he was talking to a frustrating six year old. "The aim of publishing a book is _money_. You will make huge amounts of _money_. I don't see the problem."

"That wasn't the goal with the other stuff!" I snapped.

"The other stuff wasn't like this! I was happy to find you a publisher, God knows we need a little under-appreciated literature to look back at in a hundred years but this is different! This could be a breakthrough for you, for _us_! What's five percent of a million?"

I sighed and felt a sinking sensation in my chest. Why hadn't I thought of this before? Because I didn't think it would be as big as my agent was saying it would be. I imagined it as he had described my other work. Lost in a bookshelf except to a few like minded individuals. The idea of it going mainstream, of it being made into _a movie_!

No. It had to be stopped. This was something different, something that the world was not ready for. How could I have been so reckless.

"Fred," I said in my sternest voice. "Burn it."

Now he sounded vaguely like he might cry. "But...five percent! Of a million!"

"Burn it!"

"Goddamn you to hell, Jasper!" he cried. "If I had the other chapters, I would publish this faster than you could say lawsuit!"

"You never will, not will anyone else," I informed him. "But I'm sorry to be ruining your dreams of five percent of greatness. I'll send you the fifty grand as a...bonus, OK? A little thank you for your years of loyalty and enthusiasm for written correspondence."

That did seem to cheer him up immensely, although he still asked me one more time for the other chapters. I refused and he seemed genuinely disappointed. We parted on good terms, but I felt badly shaken.

I stared at the phone for a good long while after the call had disconnected, wondering at how close I had come to something terrible. What had I been thinking? That story was not for others, or at least certainly not for the general public. It had begun as a cathartic exercise for my own benefit, but had grown well out of control and it had seemed logical to publish. It was years of work on my part and an incredible story, but now I could see that it was something private and secret. No-one knew I published things, of course. Not even Alice. That was part of my concern, that it would become something they would learn about and see the correlations, despite name and circumstance alterations. Imagine Bella picking up a copy one day.

It was more than that, though. I felt a sense of guardianship of the story. I was privileged in a way to even know the little things that I did about the two people in the story. They had trusted me like no-one else, especially Rosalie. No, I would never betray her. How could I even have thought of it? So I would destroy my work and keep their secret.

There were enough vampire love stories in the world, anyway.

* * *

_'...Through this world I've stumbled,  
So many times betrayed.  
Trying to find an honest word,  
To find the truth enslaved.  
Oh you speak to me in riddles and  
You speak to me in rhymes.  
My body aches to breathe your breath,  
Your words keep me alive...'_

**-Rosalie-**

I couldn't understand where the hesitation was coming from; my hands were afraid of making contact, my fingers unsure of their place and instruction. Which was ridiculous because I had been doing this all my life; I _knew_ how to do this. Why did it seem alien and strange all of a sudden?

Perhaps because it had been a long time.

I closed my eyes and tried to settle my mind into stillness, waiting for peace to come but it never quite arrived, it never did. So I decided to try anyway.

The first chord was a little too loud and clumsy and it sounded wrong to my ears but once I had done it, the fear was gone. It had been far too long since I'd had the chance to sit and play piano. After a few minutes, my hands were flowing across the keys and I was playing with closed eyes, lost in the old sensations. Everything good seemed to be _old; _all the best things originating from a time long ago. So many things lost in time, all the beauty and the aesthetics lost on a generation of accelerated pleasure seeking maniacs. Of course, who was I to speak? But that piano was one of the few old, beautiful objects that remained with us.

It was the piano I'd played while wondering who Edward's favourite composer was, too young to know at the time. The same beautiful instrument he had been playing whilst I was in the bath and my thoughts had made him hit a dull note. The piano that he used to compose music for me, back in the days when I was all he could think of. The piano I had broken on purpose. The piano he composed Bella's lullaby on. The piano that had come with us everywhere, listened to everything and said nothing, except to sing sweetly the way we always wanted. Officially, it was Edward's piano but I felt that it was mine in part. Even the sight of it was incredibly reassuring. Sturdy and patient, waiting in it's designated room; the only musical instrument we owned, the only one we needed.

Sometimes I longed for Edward's creativity with music. While I could play very well and play almost anything within a few minutes of hearing it, he could _write_ his own music. Compose his very own songs out of his own feelings and emotions and I envied him that. My fear was that if I created something like that; so personal and delicate, it could be easily ridiculed or analysed by others. _My_ songs were best stuck where they were born; in my head. I still remembered a little piece of a tune he had once written for me. It sounded nothing like what he had crafted for Bella and for that I was thankful. It echoed in my mind occasionally in the place of a long lost French lullaby.

My fingers slowed and lost their pace as my ears detected sounds; a laughter that could only be Alice or Nessie. If it was Nessie, then she was back early from her trip with Jacob. I swallowed my continuing and seemingly irrevocable dislike of the young wolf boy. It was no longer centred around his grating personality (though it still existed in spades) but now it was his constant and unyielding obsession with Nessie who was, to my eyes at least, a child. No-one else seemed to mind, except Edward but even he made the effort to be polite and courteous to the man who Nessie seemed to have little choice but be betrothed to.

"Damnit," I muttered softly as I missed a key. I stopped playing altogether and sighed, resting my hands in my lap. There was no point in getting angry; he wasn't going anywhere and I would achieve nothing by starting a fight. Again.

She was not _my_ baby, after all. Everyone had told me that it was important that I grasp that. She was Bella and Edward's baby, born of their flesh and passion and love and she was nothing to me but a niece to dote upon.

It hurt a great deal to swallow down the automatic love that bubbled up for that beautiful child, Edward's child. Moderate amounts were acceptable of course, the same as everyone else and maybe they all expected a little more even but mostly I contained myself. It was not jealousy, it was not envy. It was something else.

A universal acceptance of my lot in life; to always be allowed to see the things I long for most in the world, but never to have or own them. Edward and the baby were always going to be in my life and they would never be anything to me but relatives. Niece and brother. That acceptance was a weight around my heart; heavy and unyielding in all things, but I couldn't fight it anymore. Edward was married with a baby, born of another woman. What chance did I have?

The voice inside my head had been quiet since I had first held Edward's baby. Maybe it was broken, gone forever at the sight of something we could never compete with and wouldn't even _want_ to compete with. Sometimes she would whisper a memory here and there, point out a time when something as simple as Edward's presence in a room would have set me alight, but now it set me on edge. It felt like capitulation on her part.

But he was happy, it was clear to see in his eyes; in the smiles and loudness, the laughter, games and playfulness. He had everything he had ever wanted and I felt like I had accomplished something by helping him get it. His beautiful wife and a baby, all safe together, never dying, never leaving one another. A dream come true.

The voice might have gone, but I was still prone to bitterness. I _was_ still Rosalie Hale.

There was a part of me that knew it should have been me. Some distant knowledge that it was always supposed to be me, but that everything had been wrong for us. We were the star crossed lovers, but we had not died; we had survived and continued our tragic, doomed romance for far too long. And there was tragedy there; not only what we wrought ourselves, with the angst and pain of who we were. There was an underlining tragedy that meant we could never be together without hurting someone else. Other couples who meet and fall in love are celebrated by their family, congratulated and well wished.

We would tear everyone apart, betray those we loved dearly and break apart a family that endured many hardships. Our happiness would be the devastation of others.

We were never even supposed to meet. Edward should have died when he fell ill, Carlisle should never have saved him and we would never have met. I would have died where Royce King left me and we would be nothing but lost memories by now. I felt as though we had angered the Gods sometimes; as though our refusal to die according to their schedule had prompted them to set us upon a tragic course for the rest of our immortal lives. To always know we had found one another, but to never have one another for more than a few stolen moments. To hide our happiness and seek our what morsals could be salvaged in others.

But then, most of it was my fault.

Those were the bitter thoughts I had to swallow down before they consumed me entirely. Memories of missed opportunities, lost chances, little things I could have done differently, done _better_. I could have said yes, swallowed my pride, forced myself out of my depression. I could have done so many things when it was the four of us; no outsiders, no real objections should Edward and I have announced we were getting married. I'd had my chance and let it slip through my fingers like water. It left a sour taste in my throat, so I tried to dismiss it and return to blaming cruel deities instead, fixed upon the notion that, sometimes, something was just not meant to be.

It had been a brief,and bitter-sweet visit to the old piano. One I hoped I would find time to repeat again. I ran my fingers over the smooth, warm wooden top and quietly said goodbye for now before leaving the room to go join everyone else. It took effort; joining the family wasn't always something I wanted to do lately, given the new addition to the household and I didn't mean Nessie.

Emmett was waiting outside for me, leaning against the wall casually. I smiled when I saw him and he moved into kiss me gently; a greeting that, a few months ago, would have been entirely shocking given the state of our relationship. The guilt was overwhelming sometimes, how much he forgave and how much he took from me. I would never deserve him, not a million years.

"Hey baby," he said, placing a soft kiss on my lips. "That was beautiful playing. It's been a while, huh?" He seemed gently inquisitive as though he didn't want to pry.

"I miss it," I told him, stroking his cheek. "It's been far too long."

He nodded in agreement. "You should make time from now on. It's good for you, baby. You should think about getting one for us when we-"

"When did they get back?" I asked, subtly changing the subject.

"Jake and Ness?" he asked, not picking up on the sudden change. "Few minutes ago. Edward's gonna flip out I think," he said suddenly excited, as though he were in possession of some mischievous gossip. His eyes lit up and I couldn't help but smile and lean in the hear it.

"Why?"

"'Cos Nessie's first words once she gets through the door were, '_I'm all in love with Jakey and I want to marry him!'"_

I was almost certain that a little bit of bile rose up in my throat. So I wouldn't actually convulse, I began walking.

"Was he there?" I asked and we headed for downstairs, to see the returning pair.

"No, but Carlisle and Jasper were. Edward'll hear it the minute he gets near them. Maybe we should reach minimum safe distance." The excitement in his voice was adorable.

I managed a spectacularly real looking grin. "What, and miss all the fun? I think not."

"That's my girl," he said with a grip, wrapping his bear arm around me and squeezing me tightly. It felt like the grip I'd known so long ago; it had made me feel safe then and I was a little thrilled to find that I felt that way then, after so long.

Maybe there was hope after all.

It wasn't until a few hours later, while I was in the yard staring up at the sky from beneath the tree I had almost destroyed, that he came to me. I had sensed his longing to do so all night; after watching the disappointingly polite exchange between Edward and Jacob about what Nessie had come out with, he had become tense and fraught with an emotion that felt unpleasant. His frustration was buried deep beneath his fear of upsetting Bella and his daughter, neither of which he believed he deserved. I still retained the ability to sense his thoughts and feelings from time to time. When I felt particularly worn or distant, my guard would drop just enough and something would slip in. A stray observation, a snippet of a feeling. Little bits and pieces of a mind I was once completely inside and a part of.

The stars were particularly stunning that night; perfectly displayed by the icy, black sky. It had been too long since I had stared at them with no expectations; not expecting answers or guidance. Just watching the echoes of light, long lost to us, but visible anyway. I stared at them for a while until I heard the back door close quietly and sensed him before I saw him. Everything shifted; my focus, my senses, my emotions were all set in complete disarray but I fought violently to remain outwardly calm.

He stopped when he was within a few yards of me and said, "Did I disturb you?"

"You know you didn't," I told him quietly. "Like you know you shouldn't have come."

"Story of our life, Rose," he chuckled but it was humourless, tentative. "Can I...may I speak with you?"

It hurt to hear him so formal, like he was stuck in that _'Tone I Must Use With Jacob'. _I turned and replied, "Of what?"

And just like that, the very sight of him outside with me in the dark of the night _shook me to the core_. It had been a while now since we had spoken alone and I had stupidly begun to think I was getting stronger the more time we spent without being alone. That strength was gone now; I was nineteen years old again, confused and so in love I was lost inside of him. He was everything, he was _me_ and if we couldn't be one and the same I was going to die.

He gasped, like I'd hit him and took a few steps back. "Rosalie, stop it!"

I struggled to regain control but it had blind-sided me and _now_ I was bitter, _now_ I was furious that he wasn't mine and would never be mine again and that he had come outside to make that very clear to me.

I stumbled backwards and felt the tree holding me up. So many memories of that tree, of how it had groaned against the pressure our bodies were applying, of how there had been nothing but that tree to stop us falling, falling forever.

Emmett was right, we _did_ need to leave.

"What?"

I opened my eyes, trembling with the effort of controlling myself, hating to feel like this, subject to the passion the pulsated through me. Edward was staring at me, open mouthed and wide eyed. "Excuse me?"

"You said...you're leaving again?"

By this point, I'd managed to push myself back up.

"Of course we are," I said, trying to keep my voice down. How had we never been caught? It was ridiculous, _we _were ridiculous and the fact that no-one had wandered outside to see what we were doing all alone in the dark, cloistered yard was a miracle.

"But..." He looked as crestfallen as a young boy, denied his comfort blanket. "You can't leave. Nessie."

I blinked, waiting for him to say something else and when it was clear he wasn't going to I said, "Nessie...what?"

"You can't leave because of Nessie," he clarified, moving closer, perhaps unknowingly.

"Nessie is _why_ I have to leave," I said, dropping to a low whisper. "And you _know_ it."

He flinched. "Is it...is it that hard?"

"No, you fool! Nessie can communicate with you telepathically. How long will it take for her to put two and two together with God only knows what goes on in your mind?"

He didn't seem to understand, looking as confused and lost as I had ever seen him. "But...she's only projecting her thoughts on to me. She can't read my thoughts, not really."

There was most definitely a highly unfair ratio of times I had to be the strong, sensible one in this mess of a relationship. "Are you certain? One hundred percent, Edward? No, you're not, and you can't be either. You can't protect the secret you swore to protect." I sighed and dropped my gaze down, not wanting to see his face, those eyes because my heart was breaking as it was. "You've only ever kept one of the promises you made to me, Edward. When you swore that no-one would ever find out. You swore it."

"I can...I can control it," he stammered, taking a single step forward as if I was about to run right there and then. "I won't break my promise, Rose."

"You can't know," I told him. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To tell me that we have to draw a line under things. A clean break, right here and now, forever more."

The words burned in my throat like acid and I wanted, more than anything for him to deny that. To tell me that he'd come to beg me to run away with him and the baby, that we could leave together and hide away on the other side of the planet with our child and be happy.

But instead he stared at me like he couldn't remember how to speak and no offers of escape came out. My heart sank once more and I felt stupid and childish for even having entertained the thought. There were no happy endings for creatures such as myself.

"Which is the right thing to do, of course," I said quietly, nodding. "You have a baby now and she comes first. Bella is your wife and you two have a baby. It's a miracle and you don't mess with miracles, right?"

He dropped his head into his hands and the urge to comfort him was primal and fierce.

"What do you want me to do, Rose? Tell me!" he begged, hidden by his hands. "What am I supposed to do?"

I slowly went towards him, each step feeling heavier as I moved. It was only with a strength unbeknownst to me that I refrained from touching him.

"You be a wonderful Father and a good husband," I told him, ignoring the agony in my chest, my soul perhaps. "You have more than any of us could dream of, Edward. This is your miracle, what you deserve for so many years of being cursed."

He looked up suddenly, eyes wide and open so much that it hurt to see him so unguarded at such at time.

"Cursed? How can you _say_ that?" he demanded in a furious gasp. "Not a moment of time spent with you has been cursed, Rosalie Hale and how dare you insinuate otherwise? You think I don't know that I wouldn't even _have_ this miracle if it weren't for you? You think I'm blithely unaware of what you've given up, what you've gone through to make sure I have all this?"

"Then why are doing this to me?" I asked, closing my eyes. "You know what must happen now. You know and yet you put me this this charade as if it is my choice to make. I have given you all I can. The baby I could never give you, the happiness we could never generate whilst hurting so many we love. I can give you no more, Edward. Not without destroying what little remains of myself."

He grabbed me by the upper arms and any moment someone was going to walk outside and see us. "Don't you dare talk like that!" he hissed, furious and desperate. "You're my Rosalie and you're never weak, never empty or on the verge of giving up. You're the strong one, Rose. You always have been, so don't talk like that's it! Don't talk like you're done because you're not, you never will be!"

I wrenched out of his grip. "How else can it be? There is no other path to walk, Edward. There is only one choice, one way of living from now on and we cannot carve out a path of our own any longer. Everything is different. We're different."

"No, that's not true! You are the only thing in my life that remains constant, the only thing I can trust and know and love and...how can you say these things to me? It makes no difference, not really!"

The desperation was thick in the air, choking me and clouding my head, but I strove onwards because it was evident that he would or could not.

"Your daughter is inside with your wife," I said and my voice caught a little, coming out uneven and weak; not good at all. "What on Earth can I say after that?"

He was lost for words and I couldn't bear to be outside with him a moment longer. I needed to get away, get somewhere private and alone and let my heart break apart.

"Be happy, my darling," I whispered, close enough that I could feel the misery coming off him in wave. I heard him let out a small sob just as I passed him by as fast as possible.

* * *

_'...Into this night I wander,  
It's morning that I dread.  
Another day of knowing of  
The path I fear to tread.  
Oh, into the sea of waking dreams  
I follow without pride.  
Nothing stands between us here  
And I won't be denied.'_

**-Jasper-**

The news that Rosalie and Emmett were leaving came a few days after whatever altercation had occurred between Edward and Rosalie in the yard and it was received badly by all but one Child of the Moon (_urgh, I was never going to get over that. It was like something from World of Warcraft). _Jacob seemed to take the news that competition for Nessie's attention would soon be removed seemingly permanently rather well.

Esme in particular was extremely upset that with this announcement there seemed to be no intention of returning for a good long while and if then only for visits. I had never seen her forbid anything before, not with any conviction. She had stated a dozen reasons why they couldn't go away and stay away, most of which were concerning Nessie. Jacob seemed to take each one personally, as if he could do absolutely everything for his beloved alone and without assistance. I was with Rosalie on my opinion of him and the fact that he was now what seemed to be a permanent fixture in life made me quite depressed.

"I just don't understand why you can't come back after you're finished doing...whatever it is you need to do!" Esme exclaimed fiercely, her eyes fixed upon Rosalie as though she was certain this was mostly her doing. "This is your _home_, here with us."

It was only for a split second, but I saw Rosalie's eyes flick to where Jacob sat and I knew his omnipresence in our lives was a factor in her decision to leave. But of course it was stupid to ignore those other, much larger factors, also sitting in the room.

"Darling," Carlisle murmured quietly to his wife. "They are adults and have been for many years now. Any decision they make is theirs entirely."

Esme looked like she badly wanted to debate that and I was amused and somewhat baffled to see her throw an accusatory glare at Edward as if she believed he somehow had a part in this.

"Where will you go?" Bella asked, bouncing a giggling Nessie on her lap.

"England, perhaps," Rosalie said, carefully neutral. "Scotland afterwards for a time."

"You intend to integrate into the community?" Alice asked quietly and somewhat sadly. "Just the two of you?"

Rosalie sighed. "Please, I am not...I do not wish anyone to believe that we are going for any other reason than a wish to see more of the world together."

"When do you leave?" came the predictable question from Jacob in the corner, almost mirroring my trademark taciturn, shadow lurking stance. His existence was starting giving me a headache.

Bella shot him a cross glare and he shrugged, but seemed to be aware of the disapproving stares he was receiving.

"Soon," Rosalie answered shortly. "Arrangements have to be made but they can be expedited. We hope to leave within three weeks."

"So soon?" Esme said, looking genuinely upset now. "You could wait for a few years, you _should_ wait!"

Emmett took Rosalie's hand in his and said, "If we don't do this now, I think we both feel that we won't ever do it. Now is a good time too, what with everyone distracted by the baby. It's a good time to go."

"It's a terrible time to go," said Edward, quite unexpectedly. Everyone turned to look at him and I was shocked and quite terrified to see how openly resentful his face was. "After everything we've been through."

It was one of those horrible times when I thought I might explode out of my own skin with tension because they didn't seem to care that they were obviously talking _directly to one another_ right in front of everyone else. My curse was not a dangerous addiction to human blood; it was to bear witness to those two, forever on the verge of being discovered, forever unaware.

"That's all over now," Rosalie countered calmly and I prayed she, at least, wouldn't be drawn into what I had seen them explode into a hundred times. "Everything is alright."

"Is it?" he snapped and Nessie gave a sniffle, looking sad to see her father in such a state.

"Edward," Bella reprimanded quietly, clearly surprised by his attitude. "Stop it."

"No, I don't understand why they think they have to leave!" he practically yelled and I was going to have an aneurysm. "Our family has been through hell the last few weeks and now they want to go and leave us in such a vulnerable state?"

"Edward, calm down," Carlisle intoned. "We are in no such state."

"What if the Volturi come back? Caius was furious that he didn't get to kill any of us!"

"He is not that foolish," Carlisle told him. "Son, we are all upset, but it is their decision."

"No it is _not_!"

My mouth opened of it's own volition and I couldn't have moved to save my own life. No-one was moving at all, no-one was breathing, not even Black. Everyone was staring at Edward who was now on his feet, looking like he was actually about to burst into something that sounded suspiciously like the awful truth. I felt the terror coming off of Rosalie in pulsating waves and I wanted to do something but was I frozen, caught in the horror of his actions.

It was Emmett who broke the electrified silence. "Um, sorry dude, but why is that?"

"Because..." he said, staring at Rosalie. I wanted to cover my face, my ears, so I didn't have to hear or see it. I imagined him answering truthfully: _'because she's mine, because I need her, love her, worship her, can't go a day without having her near to me.' _"B-because you're my family and I love you and I want you here with me, with all of us forever. We're all we have, in the whole world and if we break apart and go our separate ways we'll never be the same."

Some form of sense had stolen the reigns from the insane version of Edward and thankfully he hadn't blurted out his undying love for Rosalie and the consequential affair of some seventy years between them.

I was about to take a breath of some small relief, when Rosalie spoke, staring at Edward just as fiercely. "Nothing is ever the same. Everything changes, Edward," she told him.

"Not _everything_," he said. "Not...our family. Not the Cullens. We stay the same, forever. Living the same life for decades and we always stay together. We always find a way."

"We can't do that now," Rosalie pointed out. "You can't. You have a baby and as wonderful as that is, you and Bella can hardly go somewhere and start over in a new school can you?"

My un-beating heart was going to go into cardiac arrest, I was certain of it. _How_ had they never been discovered before? _How _ ?

"Then we'll work something out," he ground out. "As a family, we'll work out what it is we have to do to stay together. You are right, things do have to change, but they don't have cease to be. We can change the situation, make it better than it was before. Wear make-up and go to college instead, buy houses and live next door to each other and...stay together, but in a different way. We can change but make it work. We always have done. We always will."

I fought the urge to put my hand over my eyes. Why didn't he just blurt out the whole thing there and then? I was waiting with unpleasant anticipation for someone, Bella or Emmett surely, to demand what the hell was going on, but nothing happened for a few moments until Esme spoke.

"Edward is right," she said, sounding somewhat thrilled to have such vocal backup. "We can make it work, we always do. You don't have to leave because things are different now."

Again, I sensed some strange underlying meaning of Esme's words but couldn't place it. I was too amazed that no-one had stood up and started yelling yet.

"You should stay," Bella piped up, smiling rather sweetly. "Someone has to be Nessie's Godmother."

Rosalie looked floored for a moment, perhaps genuinely touched by the gesture. Edward spun to face his wife, giving her a grateful smile, before turning back to the tentative couple on the verge of leaving.

"Emmett," he said, with an obvious attempt to sounds more rational. "Don't do this. You're my brother and you know how important family is to me, to everyone. We need to stay together."

It was clear from Emmett's expression that all it would take for him to agree to stay would be one word from Rosalie, but that word was not forthcoming. She gripped her husband's hand tighter and looked Edward square in the eyes. Everyone was holding their breath again.

"It's not that simple," she finally managed.

He moved closer to her and locked his eyes onto her.

"Nothing is simple, nothing is easy. But the best things in life do not come easy. The real things that matter, are the things we must fight for. I've never know you to stray from a fight, Rosalie. Will you begin now?"

She averted her eyes and gave Emmett and reassuring wink that, in my opinion, couldn't have been more well timed because he was radiating tension and concern.

"We'll think about it," she said after a moment of gathering herself. "But I really appreciate the gesture," she directed at at Bella with as warm a smile as she could manage. I thought back to how Rosalie despised her some years back; has wanted me to '_accidentally_' kill her. Life was nothing if not strange and complex. "Thank you."

I wondered if there was such a thing as vampire aspirin.

* * *

_'Heaven bend to take my hand,  
__And lead me through the fire.  
Be the long awaited answer,  
__To a long and painful fight  
Truth be told I tried my best,  
But somewhere along the way,  
__I got caught up in all there was to offer.  
But the cost was so much more than I could bear...'_

**-Carlisle-**

It was overdue, I decided, to be having this conversation with Rosalie, especially after everything that had taken place and things that had been said. That she had come to me to ask me for my advice, even after how I had treated her, was testament to her incredible strength of character. We sat side by side on the floor, backs against the wall as we had once done before, whilst waiting to see another terrible outcome.

"So," I said after a moment of contemplative silence. "I owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing," she said evenly. "How could I ever begin to repay the never-ending kindnesses you have shown me, if indeed we were to start keeping count?"

"I wronged you, Rose. I should have seen your motives for what they were. Selfless and generous, as you always have been, though you hide it away often."

She smiled a little and tilted her head. "You flatter me."

"You have given Edward the greatest gift of his life and you did so through significant struggle against your family. I should have trusted you, Rosalie. I am truly sorry."

I waited for her reply, but instead she paused and shifted her shoulders, as though about to say something completely off track.

"A social worker is concerned about a potential relationship building between poor orphaned adopted' children. She comes around for dinner and you have too cook her something."

I didn't even ask her what she was talking about; it made me smile just to feel that bond back between us again, to know that she was playing our game.

"1937, Forks, Washington," I replied. "I still feel bad about that. How was I supposed to remember what food should taste like?"

She didn't quite laugh, but instead managed a pleasant smile.

"Do you remember her name?"

"Of course," I said after a moment. "Mrs Swan, Charlie's Grandmother."

"Do you...do you believe in fate, Carlisle?" she asked quietly.

"I do," I answered with no hesitation.

"Why?"

"I know it exists. Whether or not it prefers to be cruel or kind is yet to be seen, but I know it to be real. I have felt it, been touched by it."

She dropped her head. "Should I leave?"

I wanted to shuffle closer and wrap my arm around her and make her see that she had nothing to fear from life, that these questions were unnecessary because fate would never dare to hurt one of my children, let alone my favourite most precious daughter. But she would never have believed me and I would have been lying to myself in the process.

"You should do whatever makes you happy, darling," I told her. "You deserve to be happy, you know."

"I don't," she said so quietly I could barely detect it.

"Why not? You believe yourself unworthy of happiness?"

"I am incapable of it," she said, even quieter than before.

"You most certainly are not," I told her in what I hoped was a strong, commanding voice. "You have a family who adore you, a husband who would commit genocide if it amused you and no fears that cannot be allayed with perseverance and strength; qualities you certainly do not lack."

"I want him to be happy, Carlisle. Is he happy?"

"Emmett? Are you serious? His face lights up just to see you enter a room!"

But then I realised suddenly that she did not mean Emmett. Because Emmett was happy. Everyone was happy in fact except Rosalie and Edward, so who else would she be speaking of?

"Oh," I said. "I see."

She turned away, as if ashamed and I hastily went to reassure her.

"No, Rose, I didn't mean it like that. It's just...sometimes I forget how much you care for him and how much in return he cares for you. And yes, he is happy. You have given him that and you should be proud of yourself. I know I am."

"I feel like I should go," she said, looking up a little. "I feel like I owe it to...to everyone, after all the trouble I caused."

"This is your home, Rose. As much as it is anyone's. More than _some_ people's," I added, giving her a gentle nudge and was pleased to see her crack a tiny smile.

"Maybe a fresh start is the best thing for everyone."

"You don't have to run away to achieve that."

"You believe that?"

"I believe that you are a complicated, lovely person, Rosalie Cullen, and that you need your family around you. You need all of us and we need you. Edward included. If you need time, take it. We have nothing but time and it's yours to do with as you please. But don't forget that home is where the people who love you will be waiting for you to return. Always, no matter what."

"But I'm terrible," she said. "I'm horrible and selfish and arrogant."

"You are family, Rose. Whatever it is you think is so terrible, is what makes you a part of this family. You keep us together, keep us on our toes. You are integral, as is Edward. As is what you and Edward bring to the family."

She seemed to grow suddenly uncomfortable as I knew she would, but I pressed on.

"You think you should go because you and Edward have something between you and that threatening his new-found happiness with that is wrong? Rose, you and Edward are the glue of this family. The counterpoints of everything that matters. There is only love between you and though there are many kinds of love, yours is essential to us all. _You_ are essential."

After that we said nothing for a while and I thought she was going to leave soon without having heard what I had been trying to say. But then she spoke.

"Thank you," she said softly and leaned into my shoulder, resting her head gently. "Thank you."

I maintained my silence and hoped I had done a good thing, but it was always so hard to tell with Rosalie. She wouldn't have told me either way and I was content for the time being to selfishly bask in the warmth of having my daughter back.

* * *

_'...We all begin with good intent,  
When love was raw and young.  
We believe that we can change ourselves,  
The past can be undone.  
But we carry on our back the burdens time always reveals.  
In the lonely light of morning,  
In the wound that would not heal.  
It's the bitter taste of losing everything,  
I've held so dear...'_

**-Edward-**

It was easy to look back and see what exactly had gone wrong in days past and it was easier still to regret that action and know precisely what could have been done in it's place, done _better_. Life, it seemed, was a series of events that either failed or succeeded and any failure would imprint deeper than success, always. It was easy indeed to see where I had made mistakes and missed opportunities, lost moments that could have been snatched and stolen. Hindsight remained the bitter-sweet answer to all those little thoughts and obsessions. When one has nothing but time, the past becomes a focal point of attention and often times, the past is made up of little but bad memories, tainted with bitterness and regret.

There are other memories. Memories of bliss and perfection and a happiness so raw and undiluted that it could never really be called happiness. Love so fierce and pure is could never be called love. Passion too fiery to own the mortal name and a devotion too dangerous to ever be brought to light. A connection so complete and binding that it could never be revealed, never really be fully acknowledged lest it devour both counterparts completely. Yet even those memories seemed tinged with the same powerful regret because if only we had _known_ what a mess we would make...

I shook myself and tried to focus on the world in front of me, an undeniably wonderful world, but still it was difficult to find a permanent tether. My mind had always been a deep, dark cavern of unpredictability; a place I could so rarely catalogue and control, at least not without some sense of peace. I hadn't felt peace in many decades.

My daughter grinned at me from where she sat on the floor, playing neatly with her toys and muttering to them as if giving them instructions. She was endlessly fascinating, beautiful and a miracle in all things and yet...my mind still wandered after a few minutes of idle watching. It was treachery in the extreme, I knew, to allow myself to be distracted even after the incredible gift I had been given. But I knew better than to think anything more of myself than what I really was. I had all the things a decent man dreams of. His wife, his daughter and the ability to keep them happy and safe. I knew this and still, my treacherous mind wandered to points of time which remained unsatisfactory to me; times I could have done more, done something different and deep down I knew that if I had the chance, I would go back and alter these things even despite what that implicated.

Carlisle could repeat it until he went blue in the face; I _did not_ deserve them. Not at all. They were beautiful and innocent and pure, looking to me to be all that they were, to guide them through the world with my similar innocence and purity and I was a monster. Always a monster, always a man of treachery and transgression.

"What are you thinking about?" Bella asked dreamily from where she lay on top of my chest, snuggled together on the sofa watching our daughter play.

"You," I said instantly and it was no quite the lie it ought to have been. She burrowed closer and kissed my chest. "Always you, love."

"What was all that about last night?" she asked after a minute of blissful silence.

I paused, caught off-guard by the question. "I don't want them to go, that was all. Why? Do you think I was out of line?"

"Oh no," she rushed to reassure me. "It just seemed like you were really upset by it."

"Emmett and I are very close," I said in my perfectly honest tone of voice. "He's my brother and I would miss him too much if he went away permanently."

She laughed a little. "And Rosalie? Would you miss her too?"

I smiled, but it was completely fake. The question struck me to my core.

"Maybe," I said, trying to make the sounds she wanted to hear, that would reassure her. "Maybe not."

"I think I would miss her," said Bella. "I know it's difficult for her to see us with Nessie, but she's a wonderful Aunt to her and Nessie would miss her too if she went."

"I know," I said and kissed her hair, drawing little circles over the small of her back. We fell into a warm silence for a while, watching our baby play and laugh to herself, but I was drifting again. The other night when she had said those things...did she really mean them? I knew that she had at the time, but sometimes Rosalie was prone to fits of such passion that she could say anything and believe it at the time. I knew deep down that she felt she was doing the right thing by everyone, even Emmett. Their fragile relationship seemed to be righting itself for the first time in a long time and I _wanted_ that for her, I did but more than that...more than anything, I wanted her to stay. I wanted her close forever, even if it was torture, even if she was right and we did have to end...it.

The very thought of it was a bolt of lightning to my chest; white hot and electrifying in it's terror. I had everything any man could want but I was not any man and Rosalie was not something I dreamed of, not something I had wanted...she was as vital to me as blood, as the oxygen we weren't supposed to need, but sometimes couldn't get enough of. She was me, in all things and if she left and if it all came to an end, I couldn't even begin to understand how it would affect me.

I began to feel uncomfortable all of a sudden, like Bella's weight was actually something significant and I had to move.

"Are you OK?" she asked, as I began to move underneath her. "Am I crushing you?"

"Oh yes," I dead-panned with a grin. "You in all your bulky glory are crushing the life out of me. I just want to go see Emmett. Will you be OK with Nessie?"

"Of course," she said simply and lay back down on the sofa.

In truth, I felt like I needed to run somewhere. Somewhere far away, until I hit water and even then it wouldn't be deep enough to block out the thoughts that plagued me. I remembered running into water many years ago, wanting to block her out because even then, in those first strange years of our bond, she had driven me to the water, to the darkness and silence that I craved but that would ultimately hurt me.

There was no place to run to, though. No place far enough on the planet, no place that wouldn't remind me of a place we had been together. A pebbled lake, a beach at night, a rotting lighthouse, a moonlit sky and a lone tree. Every wall looked like the one we had crashed through once, angering Carlisle because he thought we had been fighting. Every key on the piano sounded like her voice, like the songs I had composed for her. Every book smelt like her hands had touched it. The sun was her hair, the blood I drank was her lips and even the moon was the exact shade of pallor her face wore. The gold of my wedding ring was the gold of her eyes. My pain was hers and I _knew_ it; knew she was feeling the same because I could still feel her inside me, inside my mind despite what I did to hide it from her. She was always going to be inside me no matter where she went and no matter what I did.

And I knew it.

There was nowhere to run from it. I couldn't run, couldn't leave my girls behind but Rosalie...she could run. She could take Emmett and run from it and I knew then, with a hundred percent certainty, that she would.

It had been a week since the announcement that Rosalie and Emmett were planning to leave. A week since my heart had begun to shatter apart. A week since I had learned how much hard work it took for Rosalie to perfect that smile she used on everyone else, when inside she was dying.

During that time, I had spoken with Emmett repeatedly; begged him not to leave, given him endless reasons why it was a bad idea to go and nothing but a great idea to stay but he had kindly made it clear that it was going to be Rosalie's decision.

I was cracking up on the inside and if she left, if she went...I could break. I would actually break apart and it wouldn't be a breaking point, it would be me _breaking_.

There had been no conversations between me and Rosalie; no chance for me to make my case or to ask what it would take for me to get her to stay. She had avoided me and done so cleverly, using other members of the family to ensure that I couldn't fall down to my knees and plead with her then and there to stay, even though it meant torture...she had to stay.

Finally after such a length of unbearable waiting, she gathered us together, Jacob notably missing and the timing of the announcement – while Jacob was visiting his 'pack' – quite obviously intentional. I couldn't have cared less. Her mind was unreadable for some reason and what little glimpses I did gain, only served to further drive that dagger of despair deeper into my chest. I needed to know.

"We've decided," Emmett said, arm slung around her shoulder. "To stay."

The relief was incredible; I actually thought I might be a little dizzy, but it was short lived because the moment everyone began chattering happily and discussing their decision, Rosalie opened her mind to me and spoke to me as she hadn't done in a long time.

_'We are staying, Edward, because there is not point in running. There is no point in trying to get away or put distance between the past to ease the ache. We will stay because I do not believe that running away will do anything at all, if anything it will make it worse. I know you have been worrying about the possibility of my leaving, but this is not a joyous decision nor is it going to remotely satisfactory. Edward, this is the last time I shall speak to you like this. This is the last time we shall speak of what was between us. This is the last time we shall think of it without struggling to force it down and away. We are so lucky to have these people around us. So very lucky and one day that luck will run out. It is inevitable. They will find us, catch us, sense something and we will lose everything. Destroy the people we love and who love as in return. Could you break your daughter's heart? Could you rip our family apart, divide loyalties and cause such injury that must be endured forever? I have thought this through a great deal and we must...must be strong. We must do the right thing. The right thing is to end it. This is the end of our story, Edward. The end of what started so many years ago. It ends here and now and we shall start afresh.'_

I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Nothing was right. Nothing made sense. The world was collapsing, crumbling away into black and white nothingness and yet I was standing upright, making sounds and faces.

I didn't understand, but deep down I did. Deep down I knew this had been coming, my mind just hadn't allowed me even consider it. This was it. The end of us, the end of what I knew and trusted most, beyond all my senses and faith.

It was the end.

* * *

_'...Heaven bend to take my hand,  
I've nowhere left to turn.  
I'm lost to those I thought were friends,  
To everyone I know.  
Oh they turn their heads, embarrassed,  
Pretend that they don't see,  
That it's one miss step, one slip, before you know it,  
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed.'_

**-Ten Years Later-**

**-Edward-**

Somehow, time passed. It always did, always would and yet I found myself amazed that it could continue to do so after so much occurred in its presence. Life carried on, nothing came to a jarring halt. Days blended into weeks, weeks melted into months and then it had been years. Years since that day when Rosalie had decided to do what neither of us ever believed we could really do. She had always been the strong one, though and she had taken matters into her own hands and ended that perilous, consuming affinity between us in a matter of seconds and harsh words. I could still recall each word with perfect, untouched clarity even now. Ten years on from that day, from that whirlwind month...it was a clear to me as if it has transpired moments ago.

Everything was so different from that day, from that time. Forks was little but a memory now, but a clear one to me at least. The move had been for Bella's benefit more than anyone's as Charlie had passed away after a severe stroke. We knew it was time to go after that; not even able to attend her father's daylight funeral in front of everyone had been extremely trying for Bella and she had wanted to leave as soon as possible. What she went through after that could only have been described as depression, even though vampires were not supposed to feel such things. It was a terrible time and the first real strain upon our marriage that we had encountered. I'd wanted to turn to Rosalie, but those words rang clear and true in my head and I knew for the very first time that there had been a little wisdom in them. So many months of resentment and bitterness against her turned into grudging respect and Bella and I came through our tough times.

Our daughter had ceased to age upon her sixth year on this planet and had the appearance of a seventeen year old girl. This too had been immensely trying, especially for Bella who could not bear to have her daughter taken from her after only six years. But as we had all predicted, she had fallen spectacularly in love with Jacob and considered herself of age the moment she stopped growing. It was difficult to see them together, cuddling and sometimes even kissing and know that she was my seven year old daughter. It was harder for Bella who went through a year of fighting with Jacob constantly. He moved with us wherever we went and left his pack entirely after a few years. Nessie was his world now and he was hers and there was nothing to be done about it except adopt an open mind and closed mouth. It also meant that Nessie would have to forever pass as our sister. This was something Bella hadn't even considered until she started school for the first time at the actual age of two, but the outward age of ten. Nessie wanted desperately to meet other children, to have the experience and school and we had fought many a time over the fact that eventually, Nessie would look exactly the age that we appeared to be. It came as a shock to Bella when she finally accepted it. Her time as a mother was short lived and it was hard to take, watching our baby strut around in heels for the first time, knowing how young she really was. No-one had warned us about this, no-one had told us how hard it was going to be to have a daughter for such a short time and then lose her as she became a sister. I'd wanted to turn to Rosalie, but had not.

We moved frequently an it was starting to become obvious that soon enough we would run out of rainy, dark places to start afresh in, though no-one said anything. Jacob became part of the family officially when he and Nessie returned from what we had thought was a date, to find they had been secretly married. Bella was heartbroken that our baby had only had nine years on Earth before giving herself away to her beloved Jacob, but we all hid it well. Nessie had been so happy and no-one had wanted to spoil that for her. Jacob phased at least once a day so he would stay as young possible for as long as possible and attended school with us when we chose to. The Cullen family of poor, adopted waifs had grown considerably.

Life went on. It changed and shifted and we adjusted as best we could, lest we fall behind with the times. We stayed together, even if it was eventually separate, adjacent houses. Sometimes the strain of pretending was too much and we would flee to deserted places, too cold for humans to lay down civilisation. We would be ourselves and build houses and not worry about the pretences of humanity. The snow, in particular, made quite a lovely change from all the rain.

It was while I was staring at the snows of Anchorage, Alyeska that she came to me.

We had spoken, of course. Ten years could not pass without some communication, private and otherwise, if very sparse and brief conversation. The moment I had tried to speak of anything other than 'ordinary life', as she put it, the conversation would end abruptly. I sensed her pain, of course I did. I knew what she felt and it was probably worse than my own pain, but I tried to shut it out. My agony was enough to deal with and selfish as it was, I knew it was the only way to stay strong.

I was sitting on a shallow bank, gazing at the endless crisp whiteness before me, marvelling at the silence and the freshness of the air, even though we had been there for four months. It was truly beautiful and if I had my way, we would never venture back into society. But Nessie and Jacob were creatures of entertainment. Of movies and theme parks and they would not hear of settling in a place like that for more than six months.

"Hey," she said, sitting down next to me. "Do you mind?"

"No," I said after a moment of contemplation. I had thought I was alone, the rest of the family gone off hunting together while Jacob went into town to get himself some food. I'd assumed Rosalie had gone with them, but apparently not. "Of course not."

She sat with me for a few moments of silence, but it was not like it usually was. There was something in the air, something I knew very well but had learned to ignore and pretend did not exist.

"Do you know what today is?" she asked quietly.

"How could you think I would not?" I said, not knowing why I had to say it quite like that.

"Maybe you had forgotten." She sounded uncertain, a stranger to me almost but she was anything but and the memories that would blast away that unfamiliar persona she was wearing were beginning to bubble up inside me. "I wasn't sure you would remember, I mean...why would you?"

Now she sounded sad and it took all I had not to delve into her mind and find the source of it and soothe it at once. Time and distance, I had discovered, were little but tissue in the way of defence against the emotions she had forbade. It took constant and complete strength of will to keep them back, every second of the day and night.

"Well I haven't forgotten," I repeated somewhat lamely. "I couldn't forget if I tried."

She sighed and stared out at the sea of whiteness. "I remember how much I used to look forward to this day of the year. How much I had to pretend I was dreading it."

"Rosalie," I said hesitantly. It wasn't a warning, it _wasn't_, but she was delving into things I had worked too hard to lock away.

"How do you think we got away with it for so long?" she asked after yet another bout of silence.

"Maybe everyone knew but didn't want to embarrass us," I said, quite off the cuff hoping to get this on a lighter subject and away from where I felt she was headed.

"I think that sometimes," she said, clearly not taking the path I was offering. "Esme, I am certain, knew something at least."

"It was good we ended it when we did, then," I said and the old pain flared up inside me once more, furious at the betrayal of my self.

There was a massive pause and I sensed what she was going to say before she said it.

"Was it?"

I forced myself not to look at her. Not to think of her as _my_ Rosalie. Not to let myself build up some deluded hope, some childish anticipation.

"You said so yourself," I went on, but it was unsteady to my own ears.

"You were a father, a newly married man. I had managed to pull my own marriage back from the brink of collapse," she said quietly. "One of us had to be strong."

"It's always you," I said. "Never me."

She laughed softly. "Me? Edward, if I have ever been strong a day in my life, it's been because of you. If I have ever done a good thing or owned a moment of unselfishness, it has been because of _you_. You are every good deed, every kind word, every moment of strength and self sacrifice. You are everything that is good inside me. You always have been."

Fatally, I turned to look at her and lost all my breath to the cold winds of Alyeska.

"I had been a selfish, loathsome being all my human life until I met you. You are the reason I have anything good in my life. Anything at all."

"That's not true," I said, a little breathlessly. "I was far worse than you and it is only because of you that I have the family I do now. You have sacrificed yourself for me a hundred times, that I might be happy."

"No-one deserves happiness as much as you, Edward," she said, locking eyes with me for what felt like the first time in ten years. "I have always known there are things I could not give you and it has plagued me for many decades, the twentieth century in particular. But now you have those things. You have all that I can think of that might make you happy."

I couldn't stop myself. "All but you."

"You always have me," she said solemnly. "I am nothing if not yours, wholly and completely."

"Rosalie, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm sorry for what I said ten years ago. I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that we had to be dead before we could fall in love, but I would die a thousand times over if it means never losing you. I would endure all the torture hell can muster if it means never having live one day on this Earth without you."

Her words drifted around me, dancing on the icy winds and inside my head and I was struck dumb.

"There is no Earth without you," I said, my head spinning so much I was seeing colours.

She shifted so she was facing me and I was helpless but to mirror her. Face to face was dangerous, but I couldn't remember why. She looked nervous then, on the verge of something she wasn't certain of the outcome.

"Forever is too long to suffer needlessly and I cannot be another on this planet without knowing that you are still mine. Today is the one day of the year I looked forward to the most because I knew we could be together. We could steal that day and hide in the water and finally be together, as we were always meant to be."

She faltered for a moment and looked down, uncertainty draining her strength.

"If this day has lost meaning to you, Edward, tell me so now and I will go from here and be nothing but your sister from now on. In vain I have struggled to fight this but forever is _too long_ to wage such a war."

"Rose," I said, reaching to touch her face and she looked up sharply, gasping as if my touch burned her. Just the contact of her skin was like liquid electricity rushing through my veins and everything I had suppressed for so long came raging back to the surface. "Stop. Just...stop. This is needless. You have nothing to ask. I am yours, always yours and you know it."

The kiss was beyond articulation. Nothing would rightly depict it, nothing ever could. It was as though the ten years hadn't even happened. We were _us_ again and I felt as though I had been living as a ghost for so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like to be _alive_.

When we parted, it was with a heady breathless excitement that sang in my blood and hers, I could almost hear it. Forever was too long for anything to truly change, to _truly _ break and not heal up again.

We had nothing but time, nothing but love, and an obligation that we had been trying to deny for far too long.

And everyone had breaking points, didn't they?

The End.

* * *

The songs used were verses from the following:

_'To Ramona' – Bob Dylan_

_'Possession' – Sarah McLachlan_

_'Fallen' – Sarah McLachlan_

The most enormous love and thanks to the following people, without whom this story would most definitely not have had the passion and enthusiasm for it that I managed to maintain for so long. These people are the lifeblood of this story, so thank you all so, so much.

.-  
15xXLoveyouXx15  
Aceswild  
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Alissa  
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...if I have missed anyone, I am truly sorry but the gist of what I'm trying to get at here is that I love you all, you're amazing people and with your kind, inspirational words you have often given me the energy and enthusiasm to go on with this story and even lent me hope that I might truly be a real author one day. I'm writing The Book now, so if anyone is still interested in me, I'll be updating on my LJ.

I love you all and wish you nothing but the absolute best.

Sugarbucket, or to those who know me,

Bex

x x x x x


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